#except one. which ended up being 2.5k

[daycourtofficial]

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

[emilys-bangs]

The last thing you reblogged gave me an idea !

Touch starved Emily who is friends with you but would never dare ask you for unnecessary hugs etc., you two are close but she doesn’t want to cross that bridge since she definitely likes you a lot more than just a friend and also she’s scared of being so open and vulnerable that she admits she needs a hug and a cuddle.

You two are on a case once again, end up rooming together and there’s only one bed. You both don't really mind and go to sleep, each one on their respective side of the bed - except when you wake up in the middle of the night, Emily is cuddled around you, having subconsciously seeked your touch while she’s asleep.

You can decide how to go from there if this idea is any good to you, no worries if not and I hope you have a great week 😘😘

Tysm for requesting, I hope you have a great week as well! I sincerely thank that one post about touch starved Emily that made us all go insane <3

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Midas touch | emily prentiss x reader

Tags: touch starved Emily, room sharing, bed sharing, fluff, a ridiculous amount of yearning

Word count: 2.5k

You’d have to be blind not to notice Emily’s affinity for touch.

It’s something you’ve picked up on after a mere week in the BAU, and honestly, you’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like she craves touch, physically needs the added comfort of hands wrapping around elbows, arms slung across shoulders and casual side-hugs. In the more lax confines of Rossi’s living room or o’keefe’s, it’s not unusual to see her wrapped around somebody, or at least closely sharing what’s meant to be personal space. 

At work, however, it’s different; a bit more subtle, but still palpably flowing with love—the way she sneaks behind Garcia’s chair and wraps her arms around her neck in hello, Emily’s cheek pressing against the analyst’s. How she runs her fingers through Spencer’s messy curls, and how—despite his protests—he lets her, almost imperceptibly leaning into her hand before she pulls away. Her hip is frequently attached to JJ’s, their temples touching as she slides her palm into the back pocket of JJ’s jeans. Rossi is given paternal kisses on the cheek, Morgan dragged around with his hand in hers, their fingers interlocking in a weave of pale and dark. Even Hotch gets his fair share of physical affection from her, though more subtle but no less loving; a tugging at his belt loops, a nimble fixing of his tie, the brush of her fingers along his elbow.

Everyone gets a piece of Emily’s attention. 

Everyone except you.

It upsets you in ways you can’t fully explain—at least not without admitting to yourself that you’re falling deeply and helplessly in love with her. None of it remotely makes sense; despite her very deliberately withholding her touch from you, she’s been nothing but lovely, always having your back and gently correcting you when you slip up. 

But still, when an overbooked hotel forces Hotch to relay the unfortunate news of doubling up and she turns to you, surprise renders you silent. 

“Me and you?” Emily asks, paying no mind to JJ next to her.

You speak through your dry throat, “Um—yeah, sure.”

Hotch places the key in your hand, glad to have one pair down. You dig it into the flesh of your palm.

“I’ll take that one, thank you.” Rossi plucks a key from Hotch’s hand and turns away, leisurely walking to the elevator as protests rise behind him.

Hotch shakes his head, exasperated. You almost feel sorry for him. “Morgan?” He says, looking at him. Morgan nods, which leaves JJ with Reid.

Reid looks pleased; JJ less so, but she doesn’t protest as she takes the key from Hotch.

“Aww, good luck, pretty girl.” Emily coos, cupping JJ’s cheek and tapping it playfully. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, hot and acidic as JJ shrugs off her hand with an eye roll, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

The key is in your hand so you turn on your heel, a bad taste in your mouth as Reid starts to protest, the sound getting lost somewhere between Emily’s soft laughs.

She knows them longer than she knows you, you think as you take the stairs two at a time, trying to outrun the beating of your heart. Your somewhat blurry eyes pick out the door with the matching number on your key. Your legs take you to it, almost on autopilot.

“Hey, wait up,” Emily’s voice carries, reaching you in a cloud of spun silk. There’s a rush of air behind you and you feel her creeping over your shoulder, the scent of her perfume choking you sweetly. “You don’t want me to sleep in the hall, do you?”

You can’t bring yourself to rise to the teasing in her voice. Fitting the key in the lock with unsteady fingers, you mumble, “Would’a let you in if you’d knocked.”

But trying to keep your distance doesn’t work, because the one bed in the room glares at you as soon as you push the door open.

Your throat goes dry. 

Emily hovers impatiently at your back and you swallow as you take a step into the threshold of the room, wondering how the hell she’d share a bed with you when she seems reluctant to touch you in the first place.

Panicked, you take your bag and head into the bathroom before Emily can say anything, desperately needing a moment to compose yourself. It’s safe to say you spend more time in there than you usually would, lengthening your short routine to busy yourself.

Only when you’ve semi-calmed down do you go out, finding her perched on the edge of the large—king sized, at least—bed.

“Hey. Are you okay with this?” Emily’s eyes are wide and dark, shining with concern. 

There’s no place for you to sleep anyway if you said no, but somehow you get the feeling she’d make it work if you were uncomfortable. A confused rush of emotion runs hot under your skin; lingering jealousy and ever present bitterness and confusing pleasure at her concern.

God, you need to go to bed.

“I’m fine with it,” you force a smile. It must not be very convincing, because Emily frowns, a delicate pull drawing her brows together. Just before she says something, you speak. “Are you okay with it?”

That snaps her out of it. “Yeah,” Emily murmurs, a dimple winking at you as she gives you a small smile, “as long as you don’t kick.”

You didn’t expect her to agree so easily. Some part of you wonders if she’s lying, but you can’t look at her eyes long enough to decipher that—you’re mildly afraid if you sunk into their depths you’d never be able to claw your way out.

“I haven’t had any complaints,” you try to shrug casually. “Do you prefer a side?”

“No, go ahead. It doesn’t matter what side I sleep on, I always somehow find my way in the middle.”

That makes you crack a smile.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind her and you press your knuckles into your eyes, wondering if you can possibly get through this night without losing your already delicate composure.

It’s just a bed, you tell yourself as you take out a pair of sweatpants to serve as pajamas. And it’s just for one night. It’s fine.

It’s fine. Sure it is.

You’re already in bed and beneath the sheets when Emily walks out of the bathroom. It’s a mistake to look at her, because you think you’ve just fallen deeper in love.

She’s shaking her hair out from the confines of its ponytail and it falls in soft waves around her shoulders, curling at the ends where the water sprayed it. A cotton tank top gently hugs her body, and pale blue shorts skim the tops of her thighs.

She’s not wearing a bra.

You’re staring.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to share tonight,” Emily smiles sheepishly as she lifts the covers and climbs into the bed. A lump is lodged in your throat at the sight of her bare legs slipping through the sheets, shimmering softly from her lotion. It smells sweet, she smells sweet—like warm cocoa butter—and it takes everything in you not to inhale deeply like a creep.

“Neither was I.” You croak. Emily settles her head on her pillow and you try not to stare at her lashes, so naturally long and thick even without her usual mascara.

She’s literally going to be the death of you.

“G’night,” you mumble and turn away before she can answer. The heat in your cheeks burns, and you dig them into the pillow in hopes of cooling them down.

“Night,” Emily whispers back. The sheets rustle as she presumably turns, too.

Needless to say, it takes a while for you to fall asleep. 

It must happen at some point, though, because something wakes you. You open your eyes to the darkness of the room, unsure what it is. You just know that you’re abnormally warm and trapped beneath something smelling like cocoa butter.

Emily.

Your sluggish brain slowly puts the pieces together. Her arm is around your neck, cutting across your chest; her thigh is hitched over your hip. Cold fingertips are hooked into the collar of your t-shirt and you shiver despite the warmth of your own body. Slow breaths puff across your neck, warm and even.

Briefly, you think you’re dreaming, but just as quickly that thought dissipates. She’s too real, too warm—and anyway your imagination could never come up with something as divine as this.

You’re not completely innocent either. Your arm is hooked around her waist, your skin directly touching the warm skin of her waist. Her tank top has risen up and your blurry eyes catch a tattoo on her hipbone; a faded butterfly.

You should let her go. 

It’s an internal battle, because she fits there, perfectly, and even though you know it’s wrong, you close your eyes and continue holding her. 

It’s wrong, it’s so wrong. She doesn’t want your touch. She’s made that perfectly clear, but her warm body, the soft tickle of her hair, they cloud your senses, fog your brain and hide all traces of reason or sensibility.

But still, half asleep or not, you can’t betray her trust like this.

You’re just about to force yourself to let go when Emily snuggles closer, a long sigh escaping through her nose. Her lashes tickle your skin, wispy and light across your neck as she nestles into your collarbone.

Fuck.

You hold still and wait for her to move again. She doesn’t, other than the steady rise and fall of her chest, so you close your eyes too. You would’ve thought it would be difficult to fall asleep with almost every inch of her body touching every inch of yours, but you’re encompassed in warmth and softness and the scent of cocoa butter. 

Really, it only takes a minute before you’re asleep again.

———

She’s still in your arms when you wake up. Your alarm didn’t ring yet—it must’ve been a combination of Emily’s warmth and your internal clock that woke you up.

Her head is now on your pillow, one of her knees slotted between yours and her arm around your waist. She’s like a clingy koala, even in her sleep, and it only makes your heart ache.

Through the blurriness in your vision you see the small freckles that dot her cheeks. They’re tiny, almost unnoticeable, scattered over the bridge of her nose and under her swooping lashes. Her fingers tighten in your shirt and again the guilt surfaces, but it’s so slow to rise in the pale morning light, when you’re sluggish with sleep.

Emily’s eyes flutter open. 

Shit, you freeze, your muscles stiffening. 

You’re caught.

Suddenly you’re staring into dark chips of obsidian, clouds of sleep swirling through them. At first Emily gives no reaction, but then her brain evidently catches up and her eyes widen, her fingers letting go of your shirt.

Just before you apologize, she does.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts. Her voice is raspy and you fight the shiver before it travels down your spine. “I get really—”

“Clingy,” you mumble. “Yeah, I know. It’s obvious.” Your voice is soft, mainly because you’re too tired to fight with your own demons so early in the morning.

“I’m really sorry,” Emily whispers again, mortified. Her cheeks flush a pretty pink as she retracts her arm and her leg, curling back into her side of the bed. The sheets she leaves behind are warm, and you fight the urge to place your hand where she once was.

“S’okay. You do it with everyone, I know that.” Then, because it’s the morning and your brain is half asleep and still fogged from holding her, you ask, “Why not with me, though?”

Her teeth chew down on her lip. “Why not you, what?” She mumbles.

“Emily,” you sigh, “it’s too early for you to mess with my head. You know what.”

Emily gives a sigh of her own. She doesn’t look at you as she fiddles with the hem of her tank top and drags it back down, hiding the exposed sliver of her torso. It doesn’t help that your eyes follow her movements, because her shorts have ridden up her thighs.

“It means…more when it’s you.” She eventually says, her voice quiet. Your breath hitches and she continues looking down, frowning at the hem of her tank top. “Everything does. Can’t touch you like that and pretend it means nothing.”

The slight slur to her voice makes her confession all the more intimate. As does her bed head, the red sleep lines on the underside of her arm. This is a soft Emily, a vulnerable one, and she’s laying herself bare for you in the morning light while sleep still lingers in both your eyes.

It only confirms your love for her.

Your relief is palpable; it quickly shifts to affection, something flowery crowding the back of your throat and making it hard to swallow. She doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t think you’re disgusting or repulsive. 

She couldn’t touch you because it would give her away. Because it’s the most genuine aspect of her, one she can’t dampen or hide any more than she can stop her heart from beating.

It seems almost too big a revelation for this small hotel room bathed in morning light. Still, your hand reaches for hers. You wrap your fingers around her own, both of them now resting gently on her stomach.

“It doesn’t have to mean nothing.” You whisper.

Emily’s eyes snap to yours. They’re like the black, bitter coffee you have no choice but knock back in precincts all over the country. They make your heart race, because they come closer—she comes closer—until both your heads are resting on the same pillow again. Emily cups your joint hands with her free one, reverently protecting the tenderness of your touch.

“You’re…” Her breath hitches and she falters, then sucks in a breath, “You’re telling me you want this?”

You squeeze her fingers. “More than anything.”

Emily blows out a low sigh. You bring your free hand up to trace the curve of her brow; she leans into it. “I do, too.” She confesses. “More than anything.”

Your thumb travels down to the corner of her mouth. “Then there’s nothing stopping us. Is there?” You ask gently.

“No.” Emily sighs. “Nothing.”

She tilts her head, lets you continue exploring her face with your fingertips. Her features are gently traced; the bridge of her nose and the outline of her lips and the shape of her brows. Slowly, her knee worms its way between both of yours.

You smile and Emily smiles back, a shy dimple in her cheek. 

“Be clingy. With me,” you murmur, keeping your voice low because you’re afraid love already spills from it, “I want you to be.”

Her nose nuzzles into your cheek. “You’ll soon regret saying that.” Emily mumbles, the vibration of her voice reverberating through your skin. It fills you with strange peace.

“Never.” You whisper.

Until the alarm rings, the two of you spend your time erasing away the boundaries, learning the lines of each other’s bodies with your fingertips with slow confidence.

Because now, you have all the time in the world.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism

[justmediocrewriting]

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” {v.s}

Summary: Sanji seriously can’t figure what it is he had done to offend you or make you dislike him, but he’s sure he had to of done something; you avoid him like the plague, and if Sanji doesn’t figure out why soon, he’s going to spontaneously combust right there in the galley.

Or: the one in which Sanji is completely oblivious to the crush you have on him, until he isn’t.

Genre: fluff

Requested: ❌

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is afab, she/her pronouns, use of (y/n)

A/n: so this cute little idea was tickling in the back of my head because i have this headcanon that even though Sanji is the worlds biggest flirt and a major lover of women, he genuinely can not tell when a woman actually has a crush on him, and thus this was born lol. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t forget to leave a like if you did, and don’t be shy to send in a req if you like the way I write! ❤️

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It had been occurring for weeks, and if he were being honest, Sanji truly felt as if he were going absolutely crazy.

Sanji was not a perfect human being; he knew this, and he was all too aware of his own flaws — but he didn’t believe he was a bad person. On the contrary, he felt he was more likable than he was dislikable, and the crew for the most part seemed to share his same opinion.

Except for you.

Sanji didn’t know what it was about him that bothered you, but there had to be something there, considering the fact that you went out of your way to ensure you would never end up in a position in which you were to be alone with him, and whenever he was around, you avoided his eyes, and his attempts at conversation were generally ignored — it was quite irksome, and the smug little smirks Zoro sent his way any time it happened definitely didn’t help.

At first, Sanji thought perhaps it wasn’t him, but you. Upon first meeting he noticed the rather shy disposition you possessed, so in the beginning, Sanji just chalked your avoidance of him up to nervousness and the need to settle in. But as time went on, Sanji observed you — Sanji was always observing, mentally clocking the conditions and stability of his crewmates — and his gut twisted when he noticed you growing warmer to every other crewmate except him; you even seemed to be comfortable with Zoro, now.

Sanji tried his best to not let this fact affect him, and he instead tried to compartmentalize and break down the reasons as to why before automatically jumping to any unpleasant conclusions; perhaps you had warmed up to the others faster simply due to exposure. When Sanji had landed on that particular conclusion, he decided the best course of action to take would be to ease into a closer bond with you.

His attempt at that had quickly gone awry; the ship had docked at a small island, one fairly well known for its bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests, and Sanji was set on making a list of the crew’s current food stores, but when he’d entered the galley and noticed you — just you, without Usopp or Nami flanking you as he’d grown accustomed to seeing — his initial task had been swept away to be replaced by another.

You hadn’t yet noticed his presence, as your nose was pointed down and buried in a rather thick looking book, one hand wrapped delicately around a mug resting on the hanging table, and Sanji couldn’t refrain from taking the chance to really look at you.

Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun atop your head, a few stray locks falling from the hold of your hair tie and framing the delicate features of your face, and Sanji’s heart stuttered in his chest at the way your soft lips mouthed the words of the book as you read. Sanji knew you were attractive, had thought so since the first time he’d laid eyes on you, but with your near constant avoidance of him, it was difficult for him to be able to take any time to map your features; and Sanji was feeling eternally grateful that he was given the opportunity, and part of him didn’t want to announce his presence, because he had the sinking feeling that once you noticed him, you’d be flying out of the galley at mach ten.

But that was also another problem that Sanji was dead set on rectifying, so he pushed away any unpleasant feelings and decided to announce his presence in a way that wasn’t overly shocking — but he had underestimated your level of skittishness, and the moment in which he decided to clear his throat was the exact same moment in which you’d decided to take a sip from your mug, with which held steaming liquid within.

The instant the sound left his throat you jumped, your head snapped up and you lost your grip on the mug — leading it to falling into your lap, the contents spilling over your front and your thighs. Sanji’s heart froze inside his chest as a loud hiss escaped your lips and you slammed your knee into the bottom of the table in a frenzied scramble. Your beautiful face contorted into an expression of pain, and before Sanji could even think twice about it his body was moving, propelling him to your side in an instant.

“I’m so sorry, love, are you okay?” Sanji pushed out, hand flashing forward to grab your arm and pull it gently out of the way so he could examine the damage. Sanji winced as he noticed your legs were bare, the skin at the top an ugly shade of irritated red, and worry lanced through his gut. Tugging on your arm gently, Sanji coaxed you out of your seat.

“Come on, let’s get to the sink. We need to cool the skin before it scalds.” Sanji would have been surprised when you quietly let him lead you from the table to the counter if it weren’t for the sheer panic he was feeling. Twisting the cold tap hurriedly Sanji ripped the towel from the cabinet handle just below the sink and shoved it beneath the stream, thoroughly wetting it then ringing it out slightly before moving to place it against the burns —

Sanji nearly winced at the resounding slap that split through the galley when you smacked his hand away. Without much to offer in explanation you ripped the wet towel away from his hand and it suddenly dawned on him — he was about to place his hand in a spot that was highly inappropriate, even if the intentions were caring in nature. Sanji flushed and despite the situation, his eyes roved over your plush thighs in a way that was starkly opposite than checking damage. Feeling utterly disappointed in himself, Sanji parted his lips to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You said softy, avoiding his eyes. “T-thanks, Sanji, but I’ve got it from here.”

Sanji barely had the time to register your words (he was still frozen from the absolute beauty that was your voice speaking directly to him, saying his name) before you were scurrying away, water dripping a small path from the sink to the door out of the galley.

{{================================}}

Days had passed since the incident in the galley, and you hadn’t uttered a word to Sanji since — you didn’t even really look in his direction, and when he’d come to return your book to you and ask how you were doing, you only gave him one seldom nod and then snatched your book away before slamming the door in his face.

Only this time, Sanji couldn’t really blame you.

Of course, there was no way you could have known of the brief indecency he’d given you, but the fact that he’d startled you enough to cause you to burn yourself was enough of a reason to be angry at him, in his opinion — but his understanding of the situation didn’t make it any less irritating.

Only now, he was irritated for a different reason.

Sanji felt as though hearing his name on your lips was like taking a hit of a strong drug; ever since he had experienced it, he just wanted more. Sanji wanted to hear you speak to him, not just around him; he wanted you to converse with him, to tell him all the things that you’d already told everyone else about yourself, and, selfishly, he wanted you to tell him more — to tell him things that you’d never revealed to anyone, not even Usopp or Nami.

Sanji wanted to look into your eyes and commit them to memory, so that he could see the vibrancy of them even when he closed his own. He wanted to watch the way your lips formed words, and he wanted to hear that delicate laugh bubble from your throat because of him — and that was the crutch of it all.

Sanji wanted all of this for himself.

He wanted all of it because of himself.

And Sanji knew it was selfish, knew it was immature, because he also knew why he wanted all of this; it was because he had been deprived of it for so long.

And wasn’t that such a childish way to look at it?

Sanji couldn’t help but compare himself to a toddler being jealous of another’s toy — any time he watched you swapping words and laughs with someone else, even Nami, Sanji would feel envy bubbling beneath his skin, scratching his brain to try and figure out why you’d felt him undeserving of your time and attention. It sounded truly vain, if he was being honest.

But Sanji just couldn’t help it.

Something about you was drawing him in, making him itch for more, for anything, even the smallest morsel of attention or acknowledgement.

Sanji just needed to talk to you, or something. Get to the bottom of whatever it was — maybe if you could both put it to bed, these annoying desires would fade away.

“That fish personally insult you, or something?”

Sanji’s head snapped up at the sound of Nami’s voice, lips opening but no words slipping past them.

Nami rolled her eyes and gestured to the still intact fish resting on the cutting board. “You’ve just been glaring at it.”

Sanji’s eyes widened and his cheeks felt warm. He hadn’t even realized he had been so distracted that he hadn’t begun his lunch preparations. Recovering, Sanji sent Nami a small smile and quickly grasped the cutting knife to start in on the beheading and skinning. From his periphery he noticed Nami giving him a strange stare, and he was more than prepared for it when she asked him if he was okay.

“I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me.”

Nami scoffed as if she didn’t believe him but to his relief she didn’t pester; instead she thunked her ink pen once on the table before repositioning it to draw on her chart once more — Sanji wasn’t sure how he could explain what was distracting him without it coming off as too accusatory or abrasive.

But hell if he wouldn’t try.

“Say, you’re pretty close with (Y/N).” Sanji started, not looking up from his handiwork. He heard more than saw Nami lean back against the couch, and he could only picture that she had her arms crossed over her ribs.

“I am, I suppose. Why?”

Sanji bit his lip in thought, wondering if he should just drop the whole conversation before he could take it to the point of no return, but he needed to know; he needed to understand what it was he’d done or said to make you hate him. And if you’d told anyone why, he imagined it would be Nami.

“It’s just… does she hate me, or somethin’?”

Now Sanji couldn’t refrain from looking at Nami, bashfulness be damned. He needed to see Nami’s eyes, so that he could know if whatever her response was would be genuine. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Nami’s eyes to widen comically, nor did he expect her to double over with laughter. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath, and when she did, she gave him the most vibrant, teasing smile he’d ever seen grace her face. Sanji would be stunned by the beauty of it if he wasn’t so confused by her reaction.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?”

Sanji thought himself akin to a fish when all he could do was flap his lips at her wordlessly, brows furrowing to the point he worried they might stick. Sanji didn’t know what to say to that; was Nami being rhetorical or serious?

“Look, Sanji, she doesn’t hate you.” Nami finally recessed, but the mirthful amusement was still evident in her tone. Sanji wet his bottom lip, relief warring with confusion in the pit of his mind.

“But she avoids me. She won’t even look at me.”

“She looks at you a lot. You just don’t see it.”

Sanji was once again rendered speechless — a part of him wondered if Nami was simply pulling his leg, or if she knew something he didn’t; something she clearly thought should be obvious, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

Nami heaved a great sigh and gathered up her chart and pens, along with her other various navigation gear, and tucked it into her rucksack before rising from the couch. Resting her hands against the counter she leaned forward, the tease in her eyes making Sanji do the same, not even noticing when the tip of his tie grazed the slimy flesh of the fish.

“For a ladies man, you sure don’t know much about them. You should remember that there’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.” Nami whispered, and with barely a glance back she breezed swiftly from the galley, leaving Sanji more confused and fuddled than ever before.

{{================================}}

For the rest of the evening, Sanji continued to toss and turn Nami’s words around in his head; but no matter how much he picked and pulled at them, dissected them and put them back together, he just couldn’t figure it out.

Surely Nami didn’t mean for her words to be as cryptic as they were. Nami wasn’t one to be cryptic; she was blunt and upfront, and unashamed or frightened to speak her mind — it was one of the many traits that Sanji admired in her.

Throughout your time with the crew, Sanji noticed that you were similar to Nami in that respect — you weren’t afraid to put in your own input on certain situations or decisions, and most of the time, your input was quite enlightening and helpful. You also weren’t scared to fight for your own beliefs, even if it meant engaging in a verbal altercation with one of your friends. Outspoken and vibrant with pretty much everyone on the crew, you were, and it was something Sanji found very attractive and annoying at the same time — because you weren’t nearly that strong around him, had never gotten in an altercation with him, choosing instead to avoid him.

Nami said you didn’t hate him — but why else would you avoid him, avoid eye contact, refuse to be alone with him? Why else would your face flush any time you met his eyes accidentally? Why else would you stare at him in secret instead of approaching him?

Sanji promptly dropped the whisk into the bowl of pancake batter, because oh —

Oh.

There’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.

Oh. Shit.

The blushing, the avoiding, the staring in secret… it wasn’t because you hated him — it was because you liked him.

A smile broke on Sanji’s lips and he pulled the whisk out delicately with the tips of his fingers, a warm, fluttery feeling erupting in his chest.

Sanji would have to thank Nami later.

[baronessvonglitter]

From Day One

Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: your FBI partner and secret crush Agent Marcus Pike has only you to lean on after his breakup with Teresa Lisbon. You offer him something to take away his heartache..

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, friends to lovers, pining, angst, fluff, confessions of love, oral (m & f receiving), 69ing, unprotected p in v sex

Author's Note: this was a fic posted on AO3 right around Valentine's Day but there's not much talk about the holiday itself except a couple brief mentions. Didn't feel like waiting 8 months to post it here 🙂‍↔️

MARCUS PIKE MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You’ve loved Agent Marcus Pike from the moment you were introduced. Your first day at the Austin FBI field office was a chaotic one, being thrown onto a case with him immediately. Your transfer from out of state was sudden, but your skills were sought after by this particular department and you soon became an asset.

You also became close with Marcus himself, partnering with him on several high-profile cases. Spending all that time together, you felt sparks. It was easy to be with him. He seemed to genuinely care about the cases, and in getting to know him you found out he was not only handsome, but sweet and compassionate. Everything you looked for in a man.

And then Teresa Lisbon came into the picture.

One day you were bringing Marcus a coffee and bagel from your favorite place downtown when you walked into the office and saw him laughing with her. You froze, but your smile completely disappeared when she kissed him. Right in front of you. You swore your heart stopped beating.

Marcus noticed you and introduced you to his new girlfriend, an agent you'd seen around and probably nodded politely to in passing. To save face you welcomed her. When they were gone you dumped the extra coffee down the sink.

Your working relationship with Marcus grew somewhat distant. You remained cordial with him, but you kept yourself less accessible than you used to be. You refrained from calling him or even joking with him. He definitely took notice, but his relationship with Teresa took over everything else in his life. Upon hearing that after only months of dating they were engaged, you put in a request for reassignment, which was promptly rejected. You were essential to the department, and honestly quitting wasn't an option for you, so you just had to eat your heart out, watching those two lovebirds. He planned on taking her to DC with him on his transfer anyway, so you figured it would be good riddance to both after all.

And one day, a day that starts out like any other. Marcus doesn't show up for work. And there's gossip around the office that he was dumped by Teresa. You know better than to put too much faith in rumors, but at the end of the day you share an elevator going down with Teresa herself, and her face says it all. She looks guilty and can't even look you in the eye.

In your car you immediately call Marcus but get his voicemail. You drive by his house and see his car there. Banging on the door you refuse to leave until you know he's okay. "Marcus open this damn door!"

He does open it eventually and he looks like a shell of his former self. His eyes are bleary and red. He's been crying but refuses to show it.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, and without a second thought you embrace him. Your body is warm as he hugs you back.

"I can't believe she'd do that! What a bitch!" you exclaim, sitting on the sofa with him as he reveals the details of his breakup with Teresa.

"She's not a bitch," he softly replies. "She just wants someone else."

"Okay then, she's an idiot." You refuse to let her off the hook for hurting someone you'd fallen for long ago. "Are you still going to DC?"

He nods. "I made a commitment and I'm still seeing it through."

"Unlike her," you mutter.

"I wasn't a good friend to you while I was with her," he confesses, his puppy dog eyes conveying his regret. "Can you forgive me?"

This confession shocks you. You hadn't expected Marcus to be aware of what you were going through. You hadn't even made your feelings for him known. "It's fine, Marcus.. I was hurt, I'm not going to lie.. but you were in love. I know what it's like to lose yourself in someone." You cast a look at him that is filled with longing.

"I'd been planning this move to DC months in advance," he says. "Way before I met Teresa. And honestly, my first choice was to bring you with me."

This takes you by surprise. "What?"

He smiles. "You're my partner.. it was only right that I bring you with me, if of course you wanted to. Then things changed, and.." he trails off and you can tell he's fighting off another round of tears thinking about Teresa. "Would you still want to come with me? The DC branch is still expecting two agents. We'd have to figure out a living situation, but.. I'd love for you to come. I'll understand if you don't."

"Absolutely," you say before he's even finished his sentence.

"Really?" He smiles for the first time and it lights up his face.

You smile back. "Only an idiot could say no to you, Marcus Pike.."

DC is so much more fast-paced than you expected, but you and Marcus keep busy, working on new, more prominent cases. It's like the good old days, before he had his heart stomped on by Teresa. You've been careful with him, giving him his space to heal while you've also become acclimated to this new city.

You share a two-bedroom loft in the heart of the city, and it's been an easier transition than you'd thought. Being with him is so natural, so easy. Even the holidays are spent in a kind of quiet reminiscence. But then Valentine's Day rolls around, and just as you think Marcus is finally getting to a good place, you see him somber, his sparkle dulled. He must be thinking of Teresa, and how they'd be starting a life together now..

Even though nothing has been discussed regarding the obvious chemistry between you, you decide it's time to show him what he's been missing out on. Valentine's night, you suggest staying in and watching a movie. You stream "My Best Friend's Wedding", a film you both love, and settle in with some snacks. It's a comfortable evening as you relax on the sofa, your head on his shoulder. You're both in comfy clothes: Marcus in a white tee and sweatpants, you in a tank top and sleep shorts.

You decide to test the waters by resting your arm across his chest, hand on his shoulder. and he subconsciously places his hand on your elbow. You smile, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his neck. He tenses ever so slightly but doesn't pull away, in fact he sighs and that makes you smile. You whisper his name as your lips lightly brush his ear. You feel his pulse start to race, his eyes half-lidded as he falls under your spell. Your lips skim across the scruffy beard he's grown since his breakup, pressing to his cheek.

Without warning he grabs you and puts you in his lap, straddling him, and pulls you in for a scorching kiss. He holds the back of your head while his other hand strokes your back. The kiss is a synergy of lips and tongues, and you pull him closer to you while you feel him growing hard beneath you. You joyfully rub yourself against him, seeking the friction that will bring you together, making yourself absolutely drenched and knowing he can feel it through his sweatpants. Jesus, you could come right now just from the friction alone.

But he pauses, doesn't necessarily stop, putting a small bit of distance from your kiss as his gaze searches yours. "What are we doing?" he whispers, seemingly awestruck as he brushes a tendril of hair away from your face.

"I'm making my best friend feel better," you answer.

“Just your friend?” He crooks an eyebrow. Your stomach flutters with anticipation.

“Maybe more than a friend..”

He pulls you in for another kiss, removing your tank top. You delight in the feel of his fingertips on your bare flesh. A high pitched gasp passes your lips as his lips graze your neck, tease their way down your chest until he takes a pert nipple in his mouth, slowly sucking and lavishing attention with his tongue. You press your body against him, an offering. His mouth slips further down until suddenly he flips you over with ease, making you gasp. He’s now kneeling before you, big brown eyes hopeful as his fingers curl into the waistband of your shorts.

“Marcus.. tonight’s supposed to be about you,” you tell him, voice trembling with excitement.

“You first,” he whispers as you brush a stray lock of hair from his face. “It should’ve been you from the start,” he says, admiring how your hips arch as he removes your shorts and panties together. “I know that now, and I.. I’m glad you made the first move tonight.. if I’d tried something and you rejected me I don’t know what I’d do..”

You brush your fingers through his hair and mentally damn TL for leaving him so broken. “I’m not going anywhere Marcus.. I’ve wanted you from day one..”

He exhales loudly, hooking your knees under his arms and pulling you to the edge of the sofa. In the soft glow of the table side lamp he takes in the sight of your pussy, sees how soaked you are for him. He looks up at you as his tongue delves into your folds, causing your hips to buck against him. He holds your thighs firmly, flicking his tongue inside you, scooping your sweet nectar, falling in love with the taste of you, watching each reaction. Fucking you with his tongue makes you sit upright, gently cupping the back of his head, and sweeping his tongue over your throbbing clit is what makes you cry out his name, hips rising up to offer more to his hungry mouth as your body stretches out, thighs threatening to clamp down around his head.

“Please, Marcus please,” you moan. “I want to suck your cock.. it’s all I’ve been thinking about all night,” you beg.

He’s touched by this: even when you’re so close to coming you’re still thinking about his needs, putting him first.

“Ride my face,” he says, taking over when he sees how vulnerable you are. After stripping off his clothes he lays naked on the sofa and you gingerly place yourself over his mouth, the heat of his breath warming your cunt. Marcus wastes no time getting back to work, licking and sucking, pressing his lips to your clit and gently murmuring, the vibrations making your pleasured nerve endings ricochet and send you into overdrive. You lean forward taking hold of his cock, your breath stills at the deliciously thick length, more girth towards the head, which is also perfectly shaped. Just as you've imagined all along, Marcus Pike has a beautiful cock.

You take him into your mouth with gusto, keeping one hand on the base and stroking as you suck him. You take your time, delicately tonguing his sensitive, swollen head of his cock, brushing your tongue across the slit that's already leaking precum. His salty essence is lapped up by your greedy tongue as you hear him moan behind you, and he buries his face into your cunt, sending a rush of heat and electricity throughout your body. He laps at you vehemently, intent on making you cum as many times as possible. He uses his fingers to find your G-spot, pressing harder upon the spongy tissue until you see stars behind your eyes, and give forth a cry of sweet release, coming hard around his invading fingers. "There you go," Marcus soothes, his touch becoming softer as you come down from your peak. "Baby, I want to drink from this pussy every day," he says, and his eyes light up when you give a low, wicked laugh.

"You haven't even come yet," you tell him, continuing to stroke him. You get on your knees before him but he sits up and brings you into his lap again.

"I want to be inside you when I come," he tells you, positioning you over him. "It's a fantasy I've had for so long."

"For how long?"

"Probably since that first day.."

"Oh Marcus," your rapid heartbeat resounds throughout your entire being. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I wasn't so sure I wanted to lose our friendship.. but I think we might have more to gain now, if you're willing.."

This is all you've ever wanted to hear from him. Your every hope is coming true tonight, of all nights, on Valentine's Day. "I think I look pretty willing to you, don't you think?" you smirk, taking hold of his still-swollen cock and taking him so deep within you, a little at a time. The look on his face speaks volumes and he thrusts up the last few inches, eliciting a languishing moan as you take him up to the hilt.

You start slow at first, savoring the feeling of finally being one with him. His hands roam everywhere: your hips, your breasts, your thighs, as if he doesn't know where to start. He's like a kid in a candy store.

"I'm yours, Marcus," you tell him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. "I'm only yours." The pain that he went through with her he'll never have to experience again. "I'm going to make you forget anyone else ever existed for you.."

He kisses you, your bodies pressed together as intimately as any two people can be, rocking your hips in tandem, discovering the feel of each other. He watches your body as you make your own rhythm, moving sensually over him, and he wonders how he could have ever even looked at anyone else. It’s a joy to him to absorb the view of you commanding your pleasure on him, knowing he's the one making you feel this way. If there's anyone on this earth who can make him forget his heartbreak it's you.

"You're my beautiful girl," he mutters, his thumb tracing the softness of your lips. You press down harder, grinding against him and he encourages it, fucking you just as you're fucking him until you're a sighing, moaning, gasping pair. Your orgasm only spurs on his own, your walls clenching around him possessively, claiming him, drawing him towards his own completion and when he fills you you swear it's the most pristine, most natural thing you've ever felt. You belong to each other now.

And later, when you're laying side by side on the sofa, covered with a throw blanket, attempting to finish the movie, watching Julia Roberts run after a man who's marrying someone else, you sigh contentedly as he wraps an arm around your waist, drawing you in closer, a smile graces your lips and you're pretty sure it'll never leave your face. "You haven't even asked me to be your valentine," you tease him.

"Oh? I thought my actions spoke volumes." His smile lights up the semi-darkness.

"You might have to repeat some of those actions.. in case I need to be reminded.." you scoot back against him, gleefully finding him already hard again.

He chuckles and his lips brush lightly against your ear as he takes your hips in his hands and, in a sure and determined thrust, thrusts into you from behind, causing you both to cry out in bliss.

dividers by @firefly-graphics 👑

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - snippet - COD

CHAPTER ONE IS OUT <3 TUMBLR OR AO3

This is a snip of the first chapter for my upcoming wip fic 🫡 yes I have 20+ other projects, no I will not stop myself. This is not really checked for mistakes and stuff will probably change in the actual first chapter of the fic. But here u go, a snack for my sinners.

Word count: 2.5k-ish words

Hybrid!Reader x Price, reader x kinda poly141 later in fic, more to come

Small summary: This is an AU with Price becoming a farmer, hybrid dog!reader as a spoiled pet who doesn’t want to live this country life and hybrid working dogs!Gaz, Simon and Soap, who gets bought by Price. Chaos and smut ensues. Anyways, there won’t be this much in this snip.

Minors do not interact. I will block you if I can’t see any kind of indication of age on your blog.

Cw: There is the whole aspect of holding hybrids as pets, there is violence and punishments in this snippet, being hit with a belt. there is smut at the end (not much). Reader has a pussy, she/her. Reader is chubby but I tried my best to keep other descriptions vague.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the lack of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was hard to describe.

Out here, at the new farm, the noise came from animals that lived in the stables and barn, the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind tickled the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

Here the stress wasn't like in the city. Sure, there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, it was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - he had gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much happier.

It was like the farm had made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure, legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work.

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this!

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked around the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried. You really had.

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road.

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid. The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking Rudy and Ale.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed.

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate.

You fucking hated the crate.

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive.

But the dog crate? You hated that thing.

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left.

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look.

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another.

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything.

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction.

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

[lixiesfreckless]

Early | l. m.

➸ synopsis: God, you want him so bad it's almost pathetic.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader

➸ word count: 2.5k

➸ general content: acquaintance!minho, reader is horrendously down bad, insane amounts of pining, like- this entire fic is just the reader pining for him lmao

➸ warnings: mentions of alcohol, mild swearing

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author’s note: I'd like to thank @ashonheavenscloud for the ending idea. sorry for the readers I'm about to blueball

♫ early- junny, soulbysel(THIS IS LITERALLY THE INSPO FOR THE FIC)

“Yeah, I can take her home.”

Ryujin claps a little too loudly, courtesy of the several drinks she had shotgunned an hour before.

“Thank you bestest older brother in the universe,” she slurs, wrapping her arms around the older man, who was furrowing his eyebrows in mild discomfort. You stand there awkwardly, already feeling like you were inconveniencing him as well.

As bad as you felt about it though, you couldn't help the nervousness creeping through your veins at the thought of being alone with Minho.

It's not as if you've never been alone with him. You have; just in transitional spaces. Waiting for the rest of the friend group to show up. Waiting for different trains at the metro station. Waiting for the closer mutual friend to come back from the restroom. Hell, him dropping you off wasn’t really any different.

You really don't talk to him much at all, which makes it all the more ridiculous that you even have a crush on him.

And yet, you just let it fester, held back by the classic best-friend’s-older-brother unofficial rulebook. But you think even if he wasn't related to Ryujin, you still wouldn't make a move, simply too shy to find out what was under his impenetrable blank stare and trademark doc martens.

After snatching up your purse, you quickly say goodbye to your friends before catching Minho at the door.

“Sorry about all this again–”

“I was already on my way out, don't sweat it.”

Minho holds the door to the club open for you, and you step out into the crisp coolness of night, trying to appear as collected as the man walking beside you.

“My car is just around the corner, I'm just gonna grab some water for you from the store, okay?”

You find yourself nodding, although you're barely paying attention; you are focusing on averting your gaze from his face, careful as to not give yourself any more daydreaming material.

His car has one of those proximity keys, so there's no cheerful chirp letting the block know that he's about to open the passenger side door for you. Which is how it should be, because that is not a monumental occasion.

Except oh my god, Lee Minho just opened the door for you to get into his car, you might as well be married at this point.

You watch as he disappears into the little corner convenience store, and returns in record time, barely giving you any time to rehearse any cool sounding conversation starters. Then again, it's not like there would be a long line at well past three in the morning.

Shit. You're in Lee Minho’s car going to your house at three in the morning.

Your thoughts are cut off by Minho jumping into the driver’s side, swiftly starting the car and dropping two bottles of water into the cupholders.

“You live right in front of the memorial park right?”

You settle on a hum, not trusting your voice to sound calm in the slightest as his hand reaches for the gear shift. Coincidentally, that's the same time you choose to take your bottle of water from the center console.

And this is how you learn that Minho’s hands are softer than they look.

You don't stand a chance against the tidal wave of thoughts that flood your mind immediately after the accidental contact, your mind suddenly reeling with images of his hands cradling your face, sliding behind your neck, around your waist, through your hair–

“Sorry,” you squeak out, immediately seizing the bottle and twisting it open, desperate for something to lower your rising body temperature. He actually chuckles in response, and the sound has you focusing on the cool leather seat against your bare back in an attempt to round up your remaining brain cells.

He pulls the car away from the curb, beginning what will probably be the longest ten minutes of your life.

There are some things you pick up on immediately.

For one, Minho predominantly drives with one hand.

You honestly don't get how he looks so relaxed doing it either, side profile completely at ease as his right hand absentmindedly taps on the gear shift. If you were in the driver's seat, both hands would be at 10 and 2 o’ clock, just like your driving instructor taught you. Which is exactly why you take the metro; you feel like a stressed suburban mom when you drive, but don't have the time to rewire your brain to make your hands sit at 8 and 4 o’ clock like everyone else.

But he looks like he's shooting a Hyundai commercial, hand resting comfortably on the top of the wheel as the soft orange glow of the dash illuminates his perfect nose bridge and perfect eyelashes–

“Are you cold?” 

“No, I’m good,” you reply, trying and failing to keep the questioning tone out of your voice.

“Sorry- thought I saw you shiver just now,” he chuckles, glancing at you and letting his eyes drop to your legs for a split second.

Honestly, you probably did shiver; just not from the cold.

Also, why on earth did you decide to wear this dress of all dresses tonight?

Backless and short with a halter neckline, one could call this a revenge dress if you had an ex. Except it’s starting to feel like revenge on yourself, because as fleeting as Minho’s glances towards you are, they never go unnoticed, and each one makes the hem feel an inch shorter.

Granted, the slope of the seat makes the skirt ride up anyways, so it was inevitable, but you can't pull it down—he would immediately think you lied to him about being cold. Or get the idea that you didn't want him to look at your legs. Which would be ridiculous; he's practically the whole reason you wore this dress in the first place. 

You're stretching your legs out before you can give it a second thought, and you don't miss the way Minho’s jaw sets, or how his finger stops drumming against the gear shift.

Now that made you more than a little curious.

The second thing you notice is Minho’s excellent taste in music.

You assume his phone automatically connected to the car once he turned it on, because no radio station you can list off the top of your head has beats this smooth. You've never considered what kind of music he would listen to, mostly because you were worried about what he would think of your music taste. 

But this? 

These are exactly the kinds of songs you would play if you wanted to set the mood. They sound like what the world looks like after the last hues of purple leave the horizon. Indigo. Whatever that means.

You can't help but wonder if he was trying to set the mood.

Oh god, you're almost to your apartment and you haven't said anything interesting since you left the club.

You steal a glance at his side profile, once again reminded that Minho can rock any hair color he chooses as the street lights reflect blue off of his jet black hair. It gives him a darker aura, one that stops most lingering gazes on him from ever getting closer. Sure, it's not much different from the color he had before, which was dark brown, but the change makes a difference. To you at least. 

You saw its effects in action, watching all night as girls at the club try to approach him to only end up shooting their shot with his companion, who was always eager to down tequila shots with bright eyes and cheeky smiles.

“The new hair looks good.”

“Didn't catch that,” he quickly says, turning down the volume of the music with his steering wheel and slowing to a stop at a red light.

“I like what you did with your hair.”

“Really? I honestly didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“The girls at the club sure did,” you half-laugh, and he turns to look at you in bewilderment.

“You think so?”

“You could have filled a swimming pool with how much they were drooling.”

Minho laughs. He actually laughs at something you said. The sound makes you so dizzy you think someone slipped something into your drink.

The feeling of the car sliding in next to the curb pulls you back down to reality in an instant.

He puts the car into park and you slump into your seat, not at all trying to hide how disappointed you are at your performance tonight.

“Thanks for driving me home,” you whisper, not daring  to look him in the eyes as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Anytime,” he says so casually, and maybe a bolder you would take him up on that offer.

Instead you nod and smile, and reach for the door handle.

“Y/n.”

You hum and look back at him, trying your best to ignore the turmoil in your stomach once your eyes meet.

“I…this might sound a bit odd, but can I use your bathroom?” He smiles crookedly. “My place is still a ways away–”

“Sure,” you say without thinking, and he nods and jumps out of the car. You definitely can't read into that. Maybe he really can't wait until he gets home. Maybe he doesn't want an excuse to be in your apartment past midnight.

Still, your hands tremble as you twist your keys in the doorknob.

You kick your heels off upon entering, and Minho follows suit, ditching his combat boots by the door as he awaits your instruction.

Looking up, you catch him watching you expectantly, and you indulge the attention before realization dawns on you.

“Oh– the bathroom, yes. Last door on the left, sorry,” you hastily choke out, shaking your head in embarrassment. He chuckles out thanks before sliding past you and disappearing around the corner.

Water. You need water.

The coolness of the marble counter feels good against your bare back as you lean against it, trying to get a grip as cold water rushes down your throat. Maybe you should just attempt to make a move on a different night, when you have a little more liquid courage running through your veins and he’s as hazy as he is handsome. Your mind wanders back to that blissful moment in the car, when he threw his head back in a fit of laughter. That felt so natural, so easy. Why couldn’t you make him do that all the time?

Well, maybe you could, but that requires talking to him regularly, which is something you only do in your daydreams.

Minho suddenly steps out of the bathroom and you fight the urge to choke on your water, setting the glass down on the counter as he approaches you.

“I take it you like jasmine?

“The flower?” The random trivia throws you off guard. “Yeah, it’s my favorite flower…how did you–”

“Everything in your bathroom is jasmine scented,” Minho chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Ah, well…I found it helps to match everything to your perfume so it seems to last longer.”

“So you’re saying my car should smell like jasmine when I go back?”

“Only one way to find out,” you say with a smile, internally crying over how you just created a seamless segue for him to leave.

He turns to go find his combat boots, and you punch the air, frantically looking for an excuse for him to stay. But he’s standing by the door too soon, running a hand through his silky black hair before giving you a wave goodbye.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Get home safe, Minho.”

The door opens, then closes, and you exhale a sigh of relief, or frustration. Most likely equal parts both.

Perhaps baby steps would be the way to go. You haven’t even texted him, and you want him to make a move? Maybe he thinks you aren’t interested because you haven’t exactly been forward.

Sighing, you move towards your kitchen table, and then you freeze. The universe has never given you a second chance so pointedly before. 

Minho left his keys.

You reach for your phone, deciding that calling him would be faster than chasing after him, but stop halfway through your contacts once you hear him knocking on the door.

“It’s open!”

He steps inside to see you twirling the key ring around your index finger, and you hold it out for him to take as you walk up to the door.

“I didn’t take you as the forgetful type,” you giggle.

“Let’s just say I was distracted.” He slides the metal ring off your finger, and you know the dip his eyes make isn't a trick of the light.

He turns to leave, even opening the door, but when he takes a step out and turns to look back at you, something shifts in his eyes. Like a cat that’s seen something move in its periphery.

And in your mind, it all happens so unbearably slowly. 

He would step back in without a word, moving slowly and soundlessly as he’d break eye contact just to watch the door click shut. You’d find yourself backing into the wall next to him, hands pressed flat by your sides as you’d try to make sense of his approaching silhouette under the dim lighting. 

It would feel all too real, his hands sliding around to the small of your back, his chest pressing into yours, his breath fanning across your face. Your breath would catch in your throat, and the first touch of his lips would be cautious, before diving in with unrestrained desire.

You’ve imagined what it would be like to kiss Minho a million times, and with your ever-descriptive reveries, it almost feels real as you ponder the different ways he could pin you against this wall, mouth hard against yours, or light and teasing with feathery brushes of his lips.

God, you want him so bad it’s almost pathetic.

So bad, in fact, that once he lifts the corner of his lips in a smile and turns to leave for the night, it takes everything in you not to throw caution to the wind, and spin him back around. Find out what Lee Minho tastes like for yourself.

But you don’t.

You watch him walk down your hall until he leaves your sight, and even after you’re gone, you spend at least another minute replaying the few moments you had with him tonight.

Next time, you think, chewing your bottom lip as images of kissing Minho resurface against your will. 

I’ll do something about him next time.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

[armpirate]

I hate how bad I want you || Choi San

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Choi San x fem!reader || Boss x employee

w.c.: 2.5k

Warnings: Suggestive, making out

Summary: You hated your new boss with your guts. The mere thought of being around him made you lose it. Or so you thought until you saw a side of him, and yourself that you didn't know of.

You loved your job. You genuinely did. When you graduated, you thought you’d have an awful position in a small company that’d kick your ass after a few months. But unlike your low expectations, everything turned up quite well for you. Of course working as a secretary, when you studied Business Administration, wasn’t the ideal, but for that moment, it was perfect. It was a job that helped you pay the bills -after you were stubborn enough to leave your parents’ house- and allowed you to save some money, your colleagues were great -you ended up befriending most people in the office-, and your boss was awesome. Mr. Choi would always try to be a resource of help for everyone in the company, especially for you. Although you were his secretary, he always tried to show you how upper positions worked, and what tasks they had. Kind of as if he were preparing you for any promotion that could come your way. 

The job was perfect.

Or at least it was before there were some changes, and your position was the first one to suffer a change. While others were transferred to a different area, or directly to a different office, you stayed in the same place -which you thought was great, because your building was only twenty minutes away from your home, by bus. The only difference? Your boss. You went from assisting Mr. Choi, to be his son’s secretary as he was going to join the company after graduating. 

At first, it didn’t bother you. You’d lie if you said you didn’t like the change. San caught your attention the first day he set foot out of the elevator, walking around like he owned the place while his hands were hidden inside the pocket of his gray thick long coat. Just like the rest of the girls in the office, you were part of the group that were drooling over him -except that you did it in secret, instead of being as open as them about it. Mainly, because you were his secretary, and you wanted to keep your job. 

But as time went by, all that attraction started being replaced by annoyance and disgust. You didn’t want to say out loud that you hated him -because it was such a strong word-, but thinking about having to see his face every time you looked up, because he insisted on you being aware whenever he needed something, made you think of calling in sick every morning. Sometimes you’d even think about quitting. 

Okay, maybe you did hate him. But it was justified.

You lost count of the amount of times he fucked up since he started working there, which have been only three or four months. And that wasn’t even the worst part. The problem was that he’d always blame it on you. If he forgot about a meeting, it was because you didn’t schedule it properly -and not because he didn’t check. If he sent an email to the wrong person, it was because your calligraphy was barely readable on those post-its. 

Every day there was a new problem. And, with it, a new excuse to back it up. The problem with that was that he made you look useless and clumsy, and that could affect you during the evaluations at the end of the year. And, unlike him, you needed the good results to stay in the company and be able to pay all the expenses that came from living -basically. 

You got there earlier -as usual. You’d get there almost half an hour before the office started welcoming your colleagues, so you’d have plenty of time to get everything ready, surrounded by silence and calmness.

Thirty minutes later, some people started coming in, barely muttering a low “Hello” if they happened to walk past your desk, a way of greeting that really contrasted with your friend’s, Yana, who would sing out loud while resting her weight near the corner.

“How did your weekend go?” but she didn’t want to know about the several tasks you did back home, or how you argued with your landlady -who wanted to increase your rent out of nowhere. Yana was asking about something more interesting, more juicy.

“It was okay” you shrugged. 

The date was fine, the guy was friendly… but there was no chemistry. Talking to the technician that repaired the printers was almost the same, which was disappointing. Because you genuinely thought there was something going on when you both flirted non-stop in the office.

“Just okay?” she sighed disappointed, standing next to you while she waited for a better explanation.

“Yeah” you nodded, but you knew it wasn’t over.

“Did you invite him to check your cave?” the way she referred to sex made you cringe, moving uncomfortably on the spot. The lack of an answer made Yana insist “A kiss?” she frowned.

But before you could tell her that wasn’t the place nor the moment to talk about that, your new boss made sure to let her know. After making sure Yana flinched enough to stand up, San walked over his desk. His attitude was so weird. Usually, when sitting there, he’d always throw a sided smile at you, and you guessed it was because he knew you hated it. But today he sat there, with his eyebrows frowned while his eyes were lost on his own desk. 

Not like you cared though. If that was a sign that it’d be a calm day for you, you weren’t going to complain. You saw him placing his glasses properly, reaching out to one of the papers so he could read it. 

Looking at him right now, you couldn’t deny the sex appeal he had. His harsh factions made him a man that was easy to slip your eyes to. Way too easy. The problem came up when he interrupted his silence to open his mouth. 

The sound of a notification in your computer made you go back to reality, moving your eyes away from him to focus on the screen in front of you.

Mr. Choi: Did you get everything ready for my meeting?

You: Yes, the samples are on the small table behind you, and I already emailed you the presentation. 

You didn’t need an answer from him to know whether he got it or not, it was enough with lifting your eyes again to see San turning on his chair to pick up all the bound samples and leave them on his desk. 

“Hey, Y/n” another voice got you to finally move your eyes away from your boss. Marshall was looking at you with a smile “I really enjoyed the other night”.

Did he? You made your biggest effort not to frown and show how you didn’t feel the same way. Instead, you tried to match his energy, smiling and nodding, and even lying saying you two should repeat it any time. 

Another notification from your computer interrupted your chat, making you turn to it momentarily to find out that -not surprisingly- your boss sent you a new message.

Mr. Choi: Get ready. You’re attending the meeting, too.

You avoided looking up to San, because you were sure that if you did, the first reaction from you would be showing him your middle finger. You had scheduled an interesting workshop regarding leadership, that was planned by his father, and you wouldn’t be able to attend because your new boss was dumb enough to not be able to do shit by himself. If he had told you earlier, you’d have registered on the one that took place in the afternoon instead, before the inscriptions closed.

“Ready?” you heard his voice over you, while you saw his gray suit behind your computer. “Also, Marshall, don’t you have something to do?” you looked up to the two men, seeing an expression from San that made you want to punch him. It was that arrogant look you knew too well. 

“Yeah, I’m attending the meeting in five minutes as well” he let him know with a smile. 

That answer was something San didn’t expect, and his reaction was curious to you. Because why was he frowning, and clenching his jaw over his employees doing their job?

Too late to backtrack on his decision of having you there, San just waited for you to follow him to the big meeting room. 

San’s attention during the meeting kept shifting to you, seeing how Marshall and you kept exchanging smiles and looks every once in a while. It shouldn’t bother him the way it did, but there he was, trying his best not to throw that man off the window for earning those accomplice gazes from you. 

“Break time” you heard his voice sentence. Looking up to him, you found him twisting his jaw while tilting his head. 

You didn’t know what bothered him, and it wasn’t like you cared either. Honestly, you were grateful for that break, because your body was craving some coffee before being able to keep up with taking notes constantly. “Not you, Y/n” he said, as soon as he saw your attempt to walk to the door. 

Giving you an empathetic smile, Marshall just left the room, while the rest of the attendees also left the room and closed the door behind them. And you just stood there, waiting for him to tell you what he wanted from you, or what he wanted to change in five minutes and that’d put you in a tough position. 

“I see you laughing a lot with Marshall” he mentioned, without even looking at you. 

You couldn’t describe your face at that moment. Both eyebrows arched, surprised by that comment, but also confused by the nature of it. Sure you were paying attention to what was being said, but you were only there to take notes, which you did. It wasn’t your fault that he read the slides you prepared, instead of coming up with something to make it more dynamic. 

“In case you forgot, we’re in the middle of a meeting” he raised one of his eyebrows over the frame of his black glasses. 

You scoffed, not believing you were receiving a lecture about professionalism from the least appropriate person for it. 

“You have something to say?” he asked, finally getting up from his chair and walking over to you. 

You wished you were able to bite your tongue, to form a tie with it so it wouldn’t spill more than it should. But you were so fed up with him, that having San lecturing you about your work made you reply back without giving it a second thought “Quite funny how you’re the one calling this out, as if you hadn’t done worse”.

San tilted his head, with a sided smile forming on his face before he spoke “Difference is that I’m your boss, and you’re my secretary. I can make as many mistakes as I want, you can’t”. By the way he arched his eyebrows, you knew he wasn’t done.

“So talking with a coworker is a mistake now?” you tried to do your best not to laugh in his face.

“It is if it distracts me” he stepped closer.

“For fuck’s sake, you get distracted by a fly. How is that my problem?” It was after exclaiming that, that you were finally aware of how close you two were. You could perfectly see the way his skin wrinkled on his frown, and could feel his heavy and thick breathing making some of your locks move. 

San analyzed your burning gaze, eyes dropping to your plump lips, before he gave in to his wild instincts. His lips captured yours in a rough way, trying to suck into your lower lip as if that would refrain you from pushing him away. 

A wet sound flew between you two when your hands, pressed against his chest, forced him to step back and break the kiss. You were ready to slap his face and leave the room, but something in the way he looked, how his lips were parted for more, built some type of electricity inside of you that clouded your judgment. Because you weren’t seeing your annoying boss anymore, you were seeing a sexy man that was giving you the most shameless of looks with his foxy eyes through his lenses. 

Your tongue clicked, scolding yourself for your thoughts, but also working as a sign of where you lost your mind. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him to you so you’d be able to link your lips together again. His arms instantly moved around your waist, making sure your bodies were glued together. 

You were impressed. Completely surprised by the fact that a two second kiss did more for you than a two hour date. And, to top it all, all your senses went numb because of your boss, instead of everyone’s crush. But instead of fighting all your awakening needs, you just let yourself go, lost in the kiss that made your head turn in circles and turned your knees weak as jelly. 

Just like the entitled asshole he was, he dug inside your mouth without a previous warning, earning a gasp when his tongue pushed yours. You held onto his blazer when his hands started pulling your pencil skirt up, folding it until it barely covered your ass. His hands grabbed it, and you couldn’t understand it, but feeling his growing bulge against your stomach woke up something that you didn’t know you felt about your boss. 

His fingers moved lower, confidently traveling down your legs until they got to your inner thighs while his thumbs still pressed tight over your ass cheeks. One move from his whole body, and he already got you lifted over the crystal table with your legs wrapped around his thin waist.  

Your body reacted to every kiss and every move of his tongue, to his fingers rubbing all over your thighs to spread them wider so he could fit better -and, especially, to the dangerous situation you both were in. 

“I could fuck you right here and now” his raspy voice felt like the most torturous caress in your ear. “, but I’ve already been unprofessional enough, according to you”. 

Confused by his words, you felt his hands dragging your thong down your legs. And instead of being filled with anything that came from him, you felt the cold air hitting your sensitive spot when he stepped back. “Now go and tell everyone to come back inside”.

You tried to reach for your underwear, but his hand was quicker, moving it away before you were able to even touch it. Any hope of having them again disappeared when he saved them inside one of his pockets. “Are you fucking crazy? Give them back” 

“Take it as a punishment for being way too friendly with Marshall all up in my noses” he said, walking back to his seat to act as if nothing had happened between you two. 

Nothing could describe the anger you were feeling, and how you were ready to break each one of the laptops in his head. But you tried to keep your cool, placing your skirt like it was supposed to -thanking god its length was under the knee, so it was easier for you to hide the fact that you were wearing no underwear. 

You swore one of those days you’d kill him, and there was no way you’d feel bad in the slightest.

[sh4wty18]

can you please do jake webber best friends to lovers. like jakes been y/ns best friend since they were kids and neither of them knew they liked eachother until they went to a party and all that. and then add some cute lil smut in there as well but theyre both virgins. ❤️thank uuu:)

omg im so sorry for the delayed response, i was not motivated to write for a while! i hope you enjoy :)

best friend.

pairing: jake webber x reader

summary: same as request except i didn't include the smut <3

cw: fluff, language, alcohol, some spice/suggestive ending but nothing too crazy

word count: 2.5k + edited

---

Since your childhood, Jake has been your best friend. You’d grown up together in Kansas, and being the only two “alternative” people at your middle and high schools, you stuck together. He’d always been the person you leaned on, and you were the same for him. Time didn’t seem to exist when you two were together, you could talk for hours and never get bored. Both your parents had expected you to end up dating eventually, and were shocked that after over ten years, it still hadn’t happened. But everyone always said you were soulmates, in one way or another. 

When Jake got famous, you were so proud of him. It had been his dream for years, he’d been posting little vlogs for a while, and sometimes you were even featured in them. But meeting Sam & Colby had caused his career to skyrocket. Then he moved to LA to keep pursuing his dream, and of course you supported him. You wanted all the success in the world for him, so you said goodbye. 

You made a point to visit him as often as possible, which he loved. You loved seeing him, and sometimes being featured in his videos. Being a side character in his on-screen persona had garnered you your own little fandom, and people loved seeing “with y/n!” attached to his video titles. Being famous was never your “thing”, though; it was Jake’s, and you respected him for it. You were happy with your small subset of fans, and couldn’t imagine constantly being scrutinized by millions of people. Jake’s rising stardom had no effect on your friendship, and now, after many long years of hard work, he is finally gaining the recognition you had hoped he’d receive since you were kids. 

With his newfound rise in fame came more money, and in turn, a bigger house in LA. Some time after his break up with Tara, Jake had asked you to move in with him and Johnnie. You worked from home, and had been visiting him so much that you practically lived with him part-time already, so of course you’d said yes. 

What he didn’t know was that for the last three years, you have been completely and hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t know why or when it started, really. You just knew that one day, seeing him kiss Tara made you want to rip your heart out. Obviously you never told him, you could never do that to him. He was in love with Tara, and you loved and respected him too much to ever come between them. You had also become friends with Tara, and would never want to hurt her. So you yearned in silence, fully believing you were going to go to take your feelings to the grave. Their breakup was unexpected, and despite being irrevocably in love with Jake, you weren’t happy about it. Seeing your best friend in pain was the worst feeling ever, so you made sure to help him through all the ups and downs until he and Tara were comfortably friends again. 

Moving in with him may not have been the best thing for your romantic feelings, but your friendship is stronger than ever. You are constantly together, and knowing how affectionate the two of you are, you’re always touching, too. Whether it be a finger linked through the belt loop, hands intertwined, leaning on each other’s shoulder, hugging from behind, or cuddled up on the couch, you always have to have your hands on each other. Jake wasn’t very drawn to physical touch with many people, only his closest friends, which made you feel special. You loved that the only people he acted like this with were you and Johnnie. And even though he was touchy with Johnnie, it was nowhere near the level of touchiness he had with you. Some people say your relationship is weird, too close, or codependent, but you guys just laugh it off. You didn’t care if people understood, you loved each other, full stop. 

For the past three years you have wanted more, desperately so. But you knew that Jake didn’t feel the same, so learning how to separate your romantic and platonic feelings for him was a challenge. You would never want to do anything to potentially ruin your perfect friendship, though, so you learned quickly.

This would all change tonight. 

You and Jake had been curled up in his bed together under a mountain of fluffy blankets, watching one of your favorite movies, when he turned to you.  

“Tara is having a party tonight at her place, if you wanna be my plus one,” He smiled, always excited to ask you to be his plus one to events.

One of the many life changes that occurred when you moved to LA was that you were now roped into “events” way more often than you were used to. Whether it be casual parties, brand deal socials, or filming videos, you were involved in more social interaction than you’d ever been exposed to back home. You were much more introverted than Jake, and the changes were sudden, but you were slowly getting the hang of it. Plus, Jake loved when you were involved, he wanted you to be there. You loved making him happy, so you were hardly one to say no. That being said, the once small group of fans you’d garnered from being featured in Jake’s early videos was not-so-little anymore, and you were gaining quite the following. This had never been the life you’d wanted per se, but it was growing on you. 

You turned your head towards Jake’s and smiled back at him, “Of course I’ll go with you.” 

He blushed, “Yayyyy, I love my best friend!” He squealed in a silly high pitched voice, and you giggled. You wrapped your arm around his waist and buried your head against his neck, spooning him for the rest of the movie. 

After it ended you let go of his waist to go get ready for the party, which elicited a whine from Jake, “Aww, I was comfy,” He pouted and let out a huff. 

You laugh, “We can cuddle later! I have to go get sexy for tonight,” You joke. 

“You always look sexy, we’re wasting valuable bestie nap time,” he gave you puppy eyes, and you blushed. It was the first time he’d ever called you sexy. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” You giggle, and look away, trying to hide your pink cheeks and hot ears. 

“Look at you like what?” He asks innocently, continuing to give you his biggest, prettiest puppy eyes. 

“Shut up,” You laugh, swatting your hand at him as you walk towards the door. 

“Hate you!” He shouts after you as you walk across the hall toward your bedroom. 

“Hate you more!” You yell back. 

–

Two hours later, you’re finally completely ready for the party. You took an ‘everything shower’, applied a full face of your favorite glam makeup, painted your nails, and put on a brand new lacy, skin-tight, black dress. You emerge from your bedroom and walk back across the hall to Jake’s room, knocking on the door.

He opens it and stares at you in awe. He could hardly stop his jaw from dropping as he got his first look at you, and you giggle with embarrassment.

“Hi,” You say, cheeks blushing.

“Hi,” He responds, still looking you up and down, unable to tear his eyes away from your body. “You look incredible.”

You let out a modest scoff and look away, “Stop it.” 

“I mean it, y/n! You are… stunning.”

He makes eye contact with you as he thoughtfully lands on the last word, stunning. You feel a wide grin spread across your face, the rosy hue in your cheeks definitely deepening even more, but for some reason, you weren’t embarrassed anymore, only confident. 

“Thanks, Jakey. You don’t look so bad yourself,” You say, finally eyeing him up in the same way he’d done to you. He was wearing low waisted baggy jeans and a cropped baby tee, showcasing the star tattoos traveling down his v-line. Your eyes lingered there for a second too long, and you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining kissing each of those stars before wrapping your mouth around his cock. 

He caught the glint in your eye and leaned against the door frame, smirking down at you, “Like what you see?” he teased, casually placing a hand in his pocket.

You feel yourself blushing again, but you stay strong, taking a step closer and smiling up at him, “Maybe I do.” 

He maintains eye contact with you for a few seconds, and before you know it you’re competing, seeing who will break the awkward sexual tension first.

He breaks, and his smug smirk falls into a grin as he playfully pushes your forehead away from him, “C’mon ya freak, let’s go to the party,” He laughs. 

You walk the few blocks to Tara’s house, listening to Jake rant about one of his recent hyperfixations. You loved listening to him rant. He wasn’t a big talker, and usually you were the one who did the majority of the ranting in your friendship, but sometimes Jake would allow himself to rant about something he loved. He only did it with people he was super comfortable with, and it wasn’t too often, even then. But tonight, he must have been in an extra good mood, because he talked the entire walk. You smiled, and nodded, and asked him questions, which he loved, both because it signified to him that he wasn’t boring you, and because it meant he got to keep talking about something he enjoyed. You loved seeing him like this, bubbly and excited and blabbing on and on about a show you’d never even heard of. When you finally arrived at Tara’s house, he turned to you and said, “Woah, I really just talked that entire time about Peaky Blinders, didn’t I?”

“Yup. But don’t worry, I love hearing your voice,” You smile, and he grins down at you.

“I love hearing your voice too, y/n.”

You knock on Tara’s door, and she opens within seconds. “Jake! Y/n! Welcome!! It’s so good to see you guys, you both look amazing!” She pulls you both into quick hugs and you follow behind her into the packed house. She had cleared out some of the furniture for a makeshift dance floor, and people were definitely putting it to use. She led you to the kitchen where you spotted bottles of liquor littered throughout. “Help yourself!” She shouted over the loud Ice Spice song that was currently playing, and walked away to greet more guests.

You and Jake shared a look, already knowing this party was going to be overstimulating unless you got some alcohol in your systems ASAP. He poured you both a shot of whatever was closest and shouted “Cheers!” before you both downed them. 

It only took a few drinks for you both to start feeling warm and buzzed. You grab his hand and begin leading him to the dance floor, social anxiety be damned. 

“Y/n are we actually about to dance right now?” Jake asked from behind you, and when you turned to face him, you saw a big, stupid grin on his face.

“Yes, Jake! I want to throw ass with my best friend, since when is that a crime?” You shout back dramatically, still tugging on his hand. 

He suddenly yanks your hand, pulling your body closer to his. In one swift motion, he’s wrapped your arm around the back of his neck, while his hands grip your hips tightly, steadying your body in front of him. He leans into your neck, lips grazing your ear as he whispers, “Ya know, I meant what I said earlier… you look beautiful.” 

You sigh at his words, leaning your head back to rest against his chest. You pull his neck closer, forcing his head down so you can whisper back, “I- I don’t just want to be your best friend anymore.” 

“I know,” He says, “I think… I think a part of me has always known. It was always going to be you, I just couldn’t see it yet. But I do now and… and I want you so bad-” You cut him off, closing whatever little space was left between your mouths, taking in all of him. You had imagined this situation millions of times– what it would feel like to envelope your lips in his. Were they soft? Warm? Was he messy or gentle? For years, you had fantasized about this moment, never thinking it’d actually happen. Yet here you are, finally. Kissing your best friend. And it was better than you could have ever dreamed, like a drug. As soon as you got a taste, you craved more. You swiveled your body so you were facing him, and his hands moved up and down your back and further down to squeeze your ass. You lifted yourself onto your tiptoes, bringing yourself even closer to him, hands tangling through his hair, as if in a desperate attempt to swallow him whole. One word rang out in your head over and over: more. 

You broke away eventually, gasping for breath, but he didn’t stop. Instead he moved down your jawline, sloppily kissing anywhere his lips landed, letting out soft grunts as he made his way down your neck, stopping to suck on a particularly sensitive area where he noticed your breath catch. 

“Wait,” You said, and he immediately stopped, placing a hand on your cheek.

“What is it? I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” He asks, genuine concern painting his face.

“No, no! I just… I wanna make sure you mean it. You’re not just saying this because we’re tipsy, right? Because it’s real for me. You’re my best friend, Jake, and you always will be. But… I wanna be more. I wanna be yours.”

His face softens and he leans in to kiss you gently now, his hand still cradling your cheek. “Y/n, I promise, you are mine. And I’m yours. I’ve been yours since the day you moved in. I might be tipsy, but I’m still aware of what’s going on. I swear, I want this. I want you. Only you.” 

Tears well in your eyes and he wipes them away, “Don’t cry, angel.” 

“I just really love you.” You say, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen spreads across his face.

“I really love you, too. God, I’ve wanted to say that for so long,” He lets out a relieved sigh. 

You lower your voice to a whisper against his ear, “I really think we should get out of here. You look so fucking sexy.” You’re the one kissing down his neck now, and he breathes out “Fuck.” 

You lead him through the crowd again, this time toward the front door. An Irish goodbye would have to do– being socially unacceptable would be worth it to be naked in his arms. 

---

this piece marks the end of my writing block! i have so many good johnnie requests from you guys that i'm excited to get working on :) as always likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[bbunivxrse]

AHHH I LOVED UR "HATED HIM" GOJO FIC ITS SO CUTEE🥹 I WANNA SEE A PART 2!! im curious will the reader date gojo or js continue to hate him lmao

❥ IMPROVEMENTS - SATORU GOJO

pairing: gojo x f!reader contents: pt 2 to this fic although you dont need to read it to understand this one. no warnings js fluff here !!! word count: 2.5k on the DOT a/n: HII NONNIE IM SSOOO HAPPY U LIKED IT!!! im sorry this took so long ive been busy with work and exams coming up :( hopefully i can post more often soon :((( ANYWAZ ENJOY

so maybe you don’t hate Satoru Gojo. not anymore. since that moment you shared with him, you thought everything would go back to normal, and for the most part it did. well, you think it did, but everyone else saw the changes clear as day.

as time passed, from an outside perspective it seemed like the two of you suddenly had a… “stable” friendship. both “stable” and “friendship” being used very very loosely. although gojo prefered “happy relationship” and “loving marriage”. the yelling matches (you yelling at gojo while he just sits there and smiles like an idiot) that used to occur multiple times daily went down to only once a day, if at all. you didn’t seem to shoo him away as much or rant about how annoying he is. it was almost like you were warming up to him.

if nobody knew what had happened between the two of you it would’ve seemed like a random switch that went off one day, except everyone did know what happened, cuz gojo’s big mouth went and told everyone the next fucking day. to escape being made fun of to no end, you told everyone you only kissed him so he’d shut up and there was no feelings beyond that, which was half true. the other half of you knew that being all bandaged up by him after a mission gone wrong, sitting in his bed while he tells you how much he cares about you, a man who’d usually piss you off and act all goofy. to see him like that was like a breath of really fresh air and kinda changed the way you saw him.

obviously he was still super annoying and pissed you off, but he seemed to finally get the memo and tuned it down so that it was actually manageable. his laugh was suddenly cuter, his face was less punchable and his flirting was almost starting to fluster you. almost. he still made those stupid comments and monologues for waaayy too long but he got a lot sweeter in his teasing and actions. he somehow found out what your favourite foods and places to eat were and bought you food after long days of school, training sessions and missions and took you to places around tokyo on outings “dates”. your friendship with him was finally tolerable. 

waking up on a sunday morning, you hear the sound of buzzing from your phone on your bedside table. 

incoming call from gojo.

its way too early for him to be bothering you already, but you know very well that if you don’t pick up now he’ll keep calling til you do. you silently curse shoko for giving him your number when he asked her, since he already knew you’d say no to him. “what do you want?” you answer his call, putting the phone to your ear as you sit up in bed. “good morning to you too i guess..” you can hear the pouting in his voice. “what are you up to today??” 

“i’m training a bit with nanami and haibara later.” you check the clock on the table, mentally starting to plan when you’re gonna start getting ready to meet the two of them. “nanami!? why would you train with him!? he doesn’t know anything.” he seemed to completely tune out the second name you mentioned

“he knows more than you.” you laugh at his dramatic gasp over the phone, picturing the look on his face. “whateverrrr. you should train with me instead!” 

“no.” 

“what!? why not?? im soooo much better than him!” you can hear the passion in his voice and you begin to wonder how he can have so much energy so early in the morning, especially on a sunday. “please humble yourself, and i already told nanami i’d train with them anyway.” you glance back at your clock, continuing to consider how long you can stay in bed for. “fiiineee. we can train together next time. what’re you doing after that?” 

“after training i’m gonna…” your voice trails off as you think back to earlier this week, trying to recall if you had made any other plans with anyone for today. “not doing anything later. i’m probably gonna go back to my dorm.” you confessed, forgetting exactly who you were on the phone with. “oh so you’re free later? perfect! we sh-“ 

“no, i’m not free. i’m going back to my dorm gojo. and i’m staying there. all day.” you make sure to give him the details of your plan to stay in your room so he doesn’t have any wiggle room to plan anything. “hmmmm.. okay! ill just come over then!” 

“what?? n-“ 

“cyalaterbye!!” you hear the phone beep as he hangs up, now looking down at your lock screen. 'god he’s sooo annoying.'

getting out of bed after looking down at your clock again, you decide you have more than enough time to watch a bit of the show you’ve been catching up on. maybe about two and a half episodes?

checking the time halfway through the first episode, you decide you’re not in the mood to continue watching and you’ll watch a movie instead after training. you get up and begin getting ready for the scheduled training session you had, lightly fixing up your hair so you looked presentable and throwing on your uniform before heading out. 

training with nanami and haibara went well, and you were all surprised gojo didn’t show up to bother you but you figured he was busy with his own thing. coming home you immediately threw your uniform onto the floor and went to take a shower, feeling all gross and sweaty. ‘ill pick it up later.’

you turn the water on, allowing it to get hot before stepping into the shower. you decided to use your favourite body wash that smelled like heaven in a bottle, the scent filling up the entire bathroom and making all the air around you smell like your favourite fragrance. you linger in the shower for a bit, the hot water feeling therapeutic against your skin. once you were done you headed back to your room, throwing on some comfy flared sweats and a random tank top from your wardrobe. looking in the mirror, the outfit was surprisingly cute, and really comfortable.

in a good mood from the nice shower and already feeling pretty after only putting on some  random clothes, you decided to have fun and do some light makeup. maybe you’ll run a few errands later? you were a bit low on snacks at the moment.

finishing off your makeup with a pretty lipgloss, you look in your little snack drawer to see what you had left. some gum, a few candies and one bag of your favourite chips you’re planning to save. maybe it was time to restock. 

you throw on a light jacket and grab your bag, gathering your essentials and getting your shoes on before leaving your dorm. you decided to go to the little convenience store only a few minutes away since they had all the snacks you like. 

within a few minutes you made it to the store, picking out a bunch of snacks and candies you liked. as you were looking at the new flavours of candy they had, the bell by the door jingled as someone entered the store. “y/n!!” you heard a familiar voice behind you. “why are you here?? you said you were staying in your dorm. all day.” gojo mocks the tone you used with him on the phone earlier. “i changed my mind. why are you here?” 

“satoru wanted to get some candy on the way home.” suguru appears from behind him, giving you a smile and a polite wave. “hmm.. they have a nice selection here, what do you think i should get?” gojo puts a hand to his chin as he looks through all the candies. “the sour green apple candy from this brand is really good. and the lemon flavour too, they’re my favourites.” you say as you point to the candies. “then they’re my favourites too,” gojo immediately picks up two of each flavour you recommended, before picking a few other candies he knows you like.

“you do not need all that sweetness. think about your health.” suguru grimaces at the amount of sweets in gojos hands. “i’m not gonna eat all of it! do you really think that low of me? i’m sharing with my girlfriend.” he plops his purchase on the counter for the cashier, smiling down at you “and i’m still coming over,” 

“i didnt agree to that, nor do you have girlfriend.” 

“don’t care,” gojo shrugs as he takes his bag full of your favourite candies, cheerfully skipping out the door followed by you and suguru. the two of you followed as he happily pranced down the street and back to school. 

“you’re really not gonna leave me alone?” 

“nope!” you and gojo stand outside your dorm as he waits for you to unlock the door. you sign at his persistence, grabbing your keys from your bag and opening the door. he had never actually been in your dorm before so this was like a new world to him. “kinda messy in here. you needa clean up a bit y/n” gojo steps inside as if it were his own house, yet looks around at your space as if he were at a museum. “do you ever shut up? and take your shoes off. don’t step on my nice carpet. if it gets dirty i will kill you.” 

“yes ma’am.” he obeyed as if his life was truly in danger. you take off your own shoes, putting your jacket and bag away before plopping yourself on your bed. you watch gojo pace around your small dorm room, picking up random objects to inspect before humming and placing it back down. you know he should be monitored carefully while in proximity of your stuff but you really can’t be bothered to babysit right now and just allow him to stimulate himself.

after a few minutes of replying to missed texts from a few of your friends, you hear gojo sigh, dropping the bag of candy on the floor and placing his glasses alongside the makeup you put on earlier. you realize he hadn’t said a word for those few minutes. “you’re being too silent, what are yo-“ gojo fully drops himself on top of you, his hard head hitting your chest so hard you swear you heard a rib crack. “holy fucking shit you fatass, get off me!! you’re heavy.” you try to push him off you but he doesn’t budge. “but ‘m tired baby,” he whines as he made himself more comfortable on top of you. “i will kill you.” 

“m‘kay..” gojo yawns, wrapping his arms around you. now you’re stuck, great. you honestly didn’t think the word ‘tired’ existed in gojo’s vocabulary since he somehow always has energy. you had never seen him sleep before, which sounds somewhat normal until you remember the overnight trips and missions you and your classmates went on frequently, where gojo never slept. or he never let anyone see him sleep. you didn’t really realize it until now, with him on your chest already seeming close to knocking out.

as much as it annoyed you that you couldn’t get up to eat the candy he’d bought for the two of you to have, you figured if you woke him up he’d just bother the shit out of you until you let him sleep again, and you honestly realize how cute he is when he’s quiet. sighing in defeat, you open up your laptop that you had left on your bed earlier and throw on a movie you had already wanted to watch today. “hm..? what’s that?” gojo mumbles as he’s half asleep. “the movie suguru recommended me the other day. the one about the samurai?” 

“ohhh.” gojo turns his head away from the screen to rest on the other side of his head “that one sucks. and the main character dies.” 

“ugh, spoiler warning next time??” you flick the top of his head as he laughs. you scroll through the selection of movies on the site, humming occasionally while adding interesting movies to your watch later list. eventually you find a random movie that you had never heard of but it looks interesting enough and decide to watch it. the large boy laying on top of you turns his head back to the screen once he hears the new film playing. this time he doesn’t say anything, but you notice his eyes struggling to stay open as he yawns literally every waking minute.

“gojo why don’t you go back to your dorm to sleep? you can barely keep your eyes open,” you giggle at him as he tries to look offended but clearly doesn’t have to energy to. “mn-mm. ‘m watchin… with my wife.” he yawns mid sentence. “well i’m not your wife, soooo…” 

“you are my wife… we’re married… you remember.”  you know he normally only says stuff like that to get under your skin, but sometimes it sounds like he truly believes it, which is a bit scary. you can’t even pay attention to the movie with how hard you’re contemplating to get him off you and in his own bed, but it seems there’s truly no solution. he’s a freakishly tall and muscular man with 100% of his body weight on top of you, so you obviously can’t push him off. and he clearly wont willingly get up, and you know you can’t convince him to get up, so you begin to accept that you might actually be stuck here. 

“ill let you stay if you grab the bag of candy for me,” gojo seems to be too tired to remember that there’s nothing you can do to force him to leave and he easily could’ve refused. he lazily throws the bag onto the bed beside you before plopping himself right back where he was before. “now lemme stay.” you roll your eyes instinctively, grabbing the bag and picking out one of the candies gojo had picked for you. he lets out one last yawn before allowing his tiredness to consume him.

as you open up the sweets and start eating, you look down at gojo. you never really took a moment to actually realize how pretty he really is, and especially how cute he looks while he sleeps. as creepy as that sounds. you think it’s because his mouth is finally shut and he’s not saying the most annoying sentences he can come up with, or constantly blabbering to you about stuff you never asked him about and have no interest in. you honestly didn’t mind this heavy man peacefully asleep on top of you as you eat candy and watch a movie. it was quite nice, actually. maybe you’ll start to allow gojo to do things like this more often. 

i really had no idea how to end this :SOB: but it turned out well i hope. pls send requests btw i have ZERO idea what to write neext

[purplecoffee13]

Mr. Sunshine - pt. 1

Summary: Harry is a chipper guy with a dimpled smile, amazing coffee, and a need for a tutor. You are a smart girl with an obsession with caffeine and a distaste for people. Harry is infatuated with you from the day he met you, and now he’s determined to spend more time, even if that means bribing you with coffee.

Wc: 2.5k

Tropes: grumpy!MC x sunshine!Harry (based off this ask)

Warnings: none. (for now *evil snicker*)

A/N: tumblr won’t let me add a picture for some reason, but just know that I was going to add the one of dunkirk!Harry in an orange sweater and green pants, leaned against the wall with his jaw clenched as he looks at a guy’s phone. I love that picture of him. Okay, anyways, enjoy!

Masterlist

Harry Styles has been obsessed with you from the very first year of Uni. He was paired with you and two other people on a sociology project, and since then, he has been enamored with everything about you.

It wasn't like your charm took him over. If anything, your silent glare is what drew him in. You guys seemed to have the laziest project partners because they barely helped, and whatever suggestions they did have were absolutely useless.

You were a quiet girl. Not necessarily because you were shy, but because you simply didn't feel like talking. You would usually say no more than ten sentences during a group meeting, but everything you did say was always of substance.

The first time you were alone with Harry, it was in the library, where you were supposed to have a group meeting to revise each other's work that you had all divided up. Harry and you were the only ones who actually showed up, and ended up revising each other's, and then the others' work that they had sent via e-mail.

Harry had never laughed harder than that day.

The comments you made while revising their work were so witty and sharp. Their work was incredibly bad, most of the spelling was even wrong. It was quite literally a train wreck, but your quick mindedness kept Harry's dimples on display.

You hadn't even tried to be funny, and you had never experienced someone actually liking what you said and being interested in it. It made you feel weird.

After that, you were sure you would never see Harry again. He was on the rugby team, very popular with the ladies and seemed to have a busy schedule with all the parties he went to. You weren't a stalker, but your roommate couldn't stop talking about him ever since they hooked up somewhere in the first month of uni. She was determined to go to every party Harry went to, as an attempt to sleep with him again, and Y/N had to hear all about it. She was glad her roommate graduated last year, her new roommate was way nicer anyway.

You didn't go to parties. It wasn't like you hadn't tried; you went to three parties in the first week. But that turned out to be the worst decision of your entire life... oh well, that's wasn't the point. The point was, there was no scenario in which you would ever cross paths with Harry again. Except that there was, apparently.

After the summer, fresh in your second year, you entered the auditorium for the introduction class for second years. It was nothing special, just a little welcome back with a presentation on what to expect for this year.

You decided to sit at the front. The louder people usually sat in the back, so you wouldn't be bothered here anyway. You had comfortably taken a seat in the first row, knowing many people would be too weirded out to sit so up close anyway. But about five minutes before orientation begin, you heard the seat next to you creak, and Harry Styles sat down next to you.

"Hi." He smiled at you.

"Hey." You greeted him back, glancing at the podium to see how long it would take for the presentation to start. You hated chit chat, and you knew he could talk a lot.

"How was your summer?" He asked, ever so polite. That was one thing about Harry, he was always nice and sweet. It didn't exactly go with his college reputation, but you also didn't expect any differently from him.

"Oh, just peachy." You said in a bit of a monotone voice, leaning back into your seat, and keeping your eyes fixated on the screen even though there was nothing to see yet. You were in no interest to keep this conversation going. You had chosen the bloody front seats for god's sake!

"Good to hear." Harry grinned at your sarcastic response, turning his head to the podium alike. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about your beautiful face and your ability to give him a stomach ache from laughing all summer. When he saw you sitting alone, he knew it was the perfect opportunity to approach you.

There was about ten seconds of silence, ten beautiful and peaceful seconds. But then it started. That nagging feeling inside of you, and it didn't take you two more seconds before you succumbed to it.

"How was your summer?" You said so softly it could almost be classified as a whisper. Harry's head shot your way, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" You heard the amusement in Harry's tone, and you immediately regretted ever speaking up. You turned your head to him with a fake smile.

"I said, how was your summer, Harry?"

Wow, he liked that.

You had never said his name before, not even when you were in that group project with him. Harry only realized that now that his name fell from your lips. Now, he was definitely going to try and make you say his name more. He liked the way it just rolled off your tongue, even though saying that sentences seemed like a bit of a struggle.

"Why, thank you for asking Y/N! My summer was splendid." He said with an overly excited tone that made you want to push him out of the chair.

"Good to hear." You repeated his words in a murmur. Another few empty seconds went by, and you felt like you had fulfilled your duty. Now you wouldn't have to feel guilty about being impolite, and—

"Yeah, I mean, I went to this surf camp somewhere in Portugal. It was pretty cool. And after that, I went to the Amalfi Coast for a week and a half. Have you ever been to the Amalfi Coast, Y/N? Because I hadn't, and honestly it was even better than I expected. A little touristy though, but I guess that just had mostly to do with the season."

Oh my god. Your face paled. He wouldn't stop talking. Uninterrupted, he kept yapping on and on about this surf camp and the Italian cuisine for three minutes. It were the longest minutes of your life.

But you didn't shush him. You weren't sure why. You knew he was doing this to tease you, but a part of you didn't want to be disrespectful and cut him off. He was the only one who had actually delivered work and showed up to every meeting last year, and he had been nothing but nice to you. So, despite him being an annoying pain in the ass, you decided to just let him talk.

Harry couldn't believe you just let him talk.

He was waiting for you to shut him down, but you didn't. He was able to keep going until the presentation begun. And although you didn't give any verbal input nor did you look at him the entire time he was speaking, he still couldn't believe you let him annoy you without even so much as a death glare. He had never been happier about being ignored.

He kept quiet for the orientation, but it took no longer than fifteen minutes before the presentation ended and everyone was free to go. You took your time with packing your notebook into your bag, mainly to avoid the crowd at the exit.

Harry was waiting until you'd stand up, to walk out of class together, but his friends mobbed him and pulled him along to go and get beer for some king of party that same night. He could've killed his friends. He felt like he blew his shot with you now, but he wasn't going to give up.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

*four weeks later*

You stare at the styrofoam cup in Harry's hands, a bored frown on your face as you look from the cup up at him.

"I bought you coffee." He says. His voice seems relaxed, but there is a hint of stress behind it that you can detect for some reason.

"I didn't ask." You reply in a bored tone, taking the cup out of his hands and taking a sip. Caramel Macchiato. "Thank you."

The corner of Harry's mouth tugs up, and he takes a seat besides you on the park bench. His arm is stretched out behind you, and he turns his entire body towards you. You, however, keep reading your book just like you were doing before he pushed that delicious coffee in your face.

"Y/N." Harry tried to grab your attention, but you keep your eyes fixated on the book.

"Harry." You echo his name.

"You would say we're friends, right?"

"I would not."

"Yes we are." Harry chuckles, but he sounds a bit defensive. You finally look up at him, your face stern as ever.

"I don't think we qualify as friends. Maybe acquaintances." You shake your head.

"We sit next to each other in every class we have together. You like me and we're friends, just admit it, Y/N." He teases. He knows you two are friends, but you are too stubborn to call it a friendship. He also knows that stems from the fact that you haven't had many friends, and thus it is not some kind of way to hurt his feelings.

"I tolerate you."

"You love me."

"You're just lucky I haven't pushed you off this bench."

"There's no point in denying it, Y/N." He dramatically sighs, and you clench your teeth at his toothy grin. You roll your eyes and go back to reading your book. You have learned over the last four weeks that it is best to ignore him. Kind of like a puppy. It stops misbehaving once your turn your back to it.

"So, now that we've established that we are best friends forever, I wanted to ask you a favor."

There we go, you knew there was a catch to this ridiculously good caramel macchiato. Seriously, where did he buy this?

"No." You instantly reply.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask yet."

"If it involves you then I want no part in it."

"Oi! Now that's not how it works, silly! Being friends means you want to be around each other. That's the difference between friends and strangers." He over explains it to you like he would to a child, lightly patting you on your shoulder.

You let out a big sigh, then shut your book and open your bag, getting ready to leave. Harry is being too annoying today; his chipper energy always throws you off. You get up and walk away, taking another sip of the coffee he bought for you. The warm liquid is so smooth and sweet, sugary but just the right amount.

Fuck...

You stop in your tracks, and turn around, walking back to Harry. He is surprised to see you returning to him, and his stomach tenses up out of excitement.

"Where did you get this." You point at the coffee in your right hand. Harry slouches a bit, his legs spread wide. Your eyes accidentally trail off to his legs, but you quickly regain your focus. This is not what that's about— why did you even do that?

Harry, however, has a shit eating grin on his face. He noticed it, the distraction in your eyes. Bingo, he thought. That was his sign.

"Tutor me, and I'll tell you." Harry throws the offer straight on the table.

That's what he came to ask you? Jesus Christ...

"Why?"

"I can't make sense of literature class. I need your help. You're good at writing, I saw the grade you got on that first paper."

He's right, you are good at writing. You've always loved literature and all the theories that came with it. It kind of came with being a loner, you guessed. Or maybe you are such a loner because of your preference of books over people. That thought threw you for a loop, but you quickly got out of your head.

You weigh out the pros and cons of tutoring Harry. You wouldn't ask him for money, because you feel like you know him too well for that. Plus, it just feels like ripping him off, especially when it comes to tutoring literature theories. So what other pros are there besides him bringing you coffee? None. The cons consist of quite literally everything else that comes with tutoring Harry: the free time that you have to dedicate to him, his loud presence, him...

"If you bring me one of these to every session, I will help you." You say, going against your own better judgment. Harry's eyes light up.

Your brain scrambles to understand why you are feeling so opposed to rejecting Harry in any sense of the word, but you can't seem to figure out where the pit in your stomach comes from any time you want to be mean to Harry.

"Really?" He asks in pure disbelief.

"Don't question it, I'll change my mind."

"You're right, you're right." He throws his hands up, a sliver of stress flashing over his face that makes you want lift up the corners of your mouth. Harry gets up and puts his arms around you. You just stand there, one arm stretched out, trying to protect your coffee.

"What are you doing?" You ask, an uncomfortable frown on your face.

"I'm hugging you."

"Well don't. You're separating me from my coffee." You say, and Harry laughs at the strained sound of your voice. He is smiling at you once pulled out of the hug.

"Alright, I've got to split. We'll text about when and where?" He asks, slinging his book bag over shoulder. He turns around to walk away, but he looks back when you speak up again.

"You don't have my number." You say, to yourself just as much as to him.

"Don't worry about it." He calls out and disappears into the distance before you can say another word.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

*5 hours later*

Unknown number:

Hey teach. Told you not to worry about it ;)

You:

Is this the part where I file a police report?

Unknown Number:

If you never want to see that caramel macchiato again, then be my guest.

Anyways, I was thinking about wednesday at 4. That a good time for you, teach?

You:

Not if you keep calling me 'teach'.

Unknown Number:

Right. I'll let you choose another nickname. You have the choice between: buttercup, peanut, or cuddle cakes.

You:

You know what, I'll find that coffee place by myself.

Unknown Number:

Ah, c'mon. I threw cuddle cakes in there especially for you. Personally, I prefer ‘munchkin’.

Y/N? Wednesday work for you?

Hello?

Okay fine sorry, I'll bring the coffee and I won’t call you cuddle cakes.

Please reply, I'm desperate.

You:

Yes, I can see that from the four consecutive texts.

Unknown Number:

:)

You:

Wednesday's fine. See you then.

Unknown Number:

Great. See you then sweet cheeks.

You:

I'm blocking you.

Unknown Number:

Blocking me is blocking the access

to that caramel macchiato.

*seen*

See you Wednesday ;)

[chernabogs]

if you're still taking requests, can you maybe do "You're lucky you're cute" with either Malleus or Sebek? (and reader) You can choose one of them and have fun!!

Thank youuuu this is just a glorified excuse for me to info dump about etiquette with Fae interactions LMAO (also I need to work more on my Sebek down the line... my boy...I will write him soon)

CAVEATS

Inc: Malleus, GN!Reader (referred to as Prefect once) Warnings: None! Except the ominous undercurrent of danger through words at the amusement of a Fae WC: 2.5k! Excerpt: Truthfully, many of the things he’s saying are things humans should know—but the crevice between the sharing of information from Fae to humans means many of the modern humans don’t.  He’s granting you a one up by doing this—at his own entertainment. 

People find it hard to speak of things with him sometimes. Exulansis, Malleus learns it’s called. A resignation to stop talking about an experience because the other cannot relate. When the other House wardens speak of motor vehicles, of vacations, of the latest tech and similar topics he finds his mind turning in circles as he puzzles over what that experience is like. What is a vacation to the Tropical Isles like? What benefits does a magic-powered vehicle have over a gas-consuming one? 

Perhaps he has a face when they speak of this. A furrow in his brow, a darkening of his gaze. He doesn’t mean it in hostility—it’s all coming from a purely clinical stance. He’s tried so many times just to get his older flip phone model to work that he’s entirely given up comprehending what this ‘widget’ is, or the benefits of ‘bio-metrics’, which sounds like some poison you’d feed someone in his opinion. 

Maybe this is why he finds somewhat of a solace in your company at times like this. Even though you seem to know all about most of the things the others speak of, you’re still clueless about the magic aspects, and that gives him something of a purpose—explaining those to you. 

“What if you mix it?” 

You’re lying back on the stones of a cottage that once stood proudly in the forest surrounding Night Raven College. It’s since been reduced to nothing more but a few bits of the foundation and a lot of rotting wood. He raises an incredulous eyebrow at your words. 

“No, I would not recommend combining any fire magic with any form of wind magic. Most think it would just blow the fire out, but you are more apt to end up with an inferno than a resolution. Fire magic is measurably different from your flint and stick type, after all.” His gaze travels over your form as your expression shifts to one of intense thought. It reminds him of the one he wears when speaking with Shroud about his broke phone (again)—and it feels wonderful to be on the receiving end. 

“Grim and Ace did that once, you know. Combined Grims fire with wind magic Ace summoned. I probably should have thought of that before asking you.” You sit up with a groan and rub your face. “What about water magic, then?” 

“It depends on if the mage has used a sub-spell when summoning their fire spell. If a sub-spell was used with the intent of permitting the flames to burn more intensely, such as an oil or metal, then the water would simply feed the flames more. Hence why it’s quite important to pay attention to what your opponent’s actions are.” You remind him a little of Sebek and Silver when they were younger and just trying to master their own magic. You have the same curious disposition—and frustration about things just not being concise. 

You give him another look as you pick up the book you had tossed aside earlier. When he had invited you for a walk with him, he hadn’t anticipated it becoming a late-night study session. It was a refreshing experience, though—an opportunity for a ‘school-life’ moment that Lilia always pushed him to have. Midnight cramming. 

“When fighting someone, aren’t there a whole ton of other things to worry about beyond whether a sub-spell was used or not?” You sigh as you begin flipping through the pages. He notes that your writing gets rather chaotic at some points, and figures these are the things you’re picking his brain over. 

“Not every incidence of magic is for combat purposes. Why, in Briar Valley, magic is used for the most basic of tasks—such as cooking. That ties in with the fire information I just disclosed, no?” His lips quirk into the faintest of smiles. “It would be in poor taste if the cooks at the Palace were to mix magic with the wrong sub-spell by mistake.” 

“Have you ever barbecued something before? It’s practically combat.” 

Barbecue. Malleus remembers the first time he tried grilled meat, when he was younger, and Lilia had enough with the raw diet the prince had been kept on for the majority. The food had tasted like charred wood and from that point on Malleus had deliberately minimized his requests for it. “I am… not experienced at the barbecue, no.” 

“The barbecue.” You repeat, glancing at him with a smirk. “So, Briar Valley doesn’t have any fun cookouts? No throwing something on the BBQ and having a night of it?” 

“This is getting off topic.” He stands from where he was sitting on the foundation next to you and waves a hand. “Perhaps you should return to your dorm and study there. We can reconvene another time.”

Your expression shifts to surprise and you’re quick to protest his words. “No, no, I’d rather we stay. Besides, I’m not going to do anything if I go back, and you’re probably not going to do anything if you go back, so…”

“So?” He repeats with a raised eyebrow as a bright grin appears on your face. 

“Is it not better to do something together then nothing on our own?” 

Ah, you’re trying to work a strange sort of logic to your argument here. His arms cross over his chest as he looks from where you sit and out to the dark woods that surround you. It’s a quiet night, with a few fireflies flashing amongst the trees that loom like dark figures just beyond. Their towering presence ignites a sense of occhiolism that has him moving just a few steps closer to you.  

“Do you desire my company so much? All I’ve done is give you answers to your homework woes.” He gives a pointed look to the pen and book you have in hand as a flash of embarrassment crosses your face. You shift uncomfortably and close the book. 

“Well, I do want to say thank you for all that you’ve done so far…” You mumble. Your comment strikes a thought in his mind as he observes you a bit closer. “I guess I don’t really need to keep bugging you with questions.” 

“Did I ever imply it was a bother?” He moves through the grass to sit back down next to you. The lack of sound that his motions make would be unsettling to most, but your blindness to the unusual and the strange makes you seem entirely unaffected. “Do not read things that aren’t there.” 

“I… sorry?” He can see you struggling a little to navigate the right thing to say, and this brings a sense of amusement to him. Your confusion about this discussion may be mean on his part, but it’s only temporary. 

Malleus may not know much in terms of technology, or the best place for a vacation, or whether a gas-car is a better deal—but he does know magic. And he is feeling rather playful this evening as he watches your panicked gaze dart around his features. 

“Do your studies incorporate learning of magical beings, by chance?” He begins to lay the foundations for his plan as your shoulders relax at his question. You hum and flip around the book. 

“I mean, vaguely? There’s a bit about dwarves, and elves, and a very small paragraph on the Fae… but not much else.”

He clicks his tongue as his pale fingers reach out to touch the edges of the pages. “Oh, that won’t do. You can be forgiven for not understanding magical spells should you ever visit Briar Valley, but to not understand the Fae? You might find yourself in conflict.”

Then he makes his expression light up. “I would feel terrible should that happen, knowing I could prevent it, so I ask now—would you like to know more about my species?” 

It’s like dangling a forbidden fruit in front of a starving soul. He rarely shares anything about himself or his thoughts, even though you’ve both been attending these walks together for a few weeks now. You close the book again and nod, and that’s all he needs you to do. “Sure, thank you!” 

Your politeness is quaint—but he knows such an approach may not last once he begins talking. He smiles a little more, and it’s an expression to hide how eager he feels about this.

“To begin, you may find that while all of us have a degree of pride, some of us are more prideful than others. You are very generous with your thankfulness and apologetic responses, and although I appreciate the words and the acts as I know they come from a place of good intent… this is not the case for all my kind.” He hums thoughtfully. “In fact, some may think your thanks imply that they are subservient or—even worse—that you are now in debt to them.” 

He pauses and lets his words linger as they run through your mind. Your eyes widen slightly. “Subservient? I don’t want anyone thinking that whenever I just say thanks.” 

“I know that, and so does Lilia, but that’s because we’ve interacted with humans a great deal. Some Fae have very little interaction, and with that, hold very old beliefs. One should simply be… cautious. Express gratitude for what they have done, but do not say thanks.” 

Malleus feels his amusement grow as your expression becomes solemn at his words. He takes it as a sign to continue as he taps his nails against his thigh. 

Truthfully, many of the things he’s saying are things humans should know—but the crevice between the sharing of information from Fae to humans means many of the modern humans don’t. 

He’s granting you a one up by doing this—at his own entertainment. 

“We also value honesty immensely. Have I ever lied to you?” He asks, and when you shake your head with confidence, he chuckles. “No, and so I would hope that sentiment would be reciprocated. Lying or deliberately keeping information from me is something I don’t appreciate, but I will not curse you over it like some may.” 

“This makes me feel like I’m in politics instead of a conversation,” you mumble, resting your chin in your palm. He hums and nods. 

“In a sense, it is like politics. Be cautious of what you say, and if you don’t know what to say, say nothing at all. The same applies to accepting gifts—both obvious and not. Accept what you trust, but if you have a bad feeling, decline and simply do so in a way that is not apologetic.” 

“How do I know if something is being given as a gift?” There’s concern in your tone as you ask this. It makes Malleus smile wider—a sharp flash of white fangs in the dark—and he shrugs. 

“You don’t always. For example, you were quick to accept my offer of this information, even though this information itself is a gift. But we have a rapport; I trust you, as you trust me.” He stops tapping his thigh. “It’s the same for how willing you and the others have been at granting me and Lilia your names. There’s a great deal of magic tied into a person's name.”

Malleus notes that flash of unease in your gaze again as you grip your book a bit tighter. Perhaps this is unsettling to you. Perhaps the reminder of just how different the two of you are is throwing you into a perilous loop; you became comfortable enough with him that you began to see him as equal, and the reminder that you aren’t is jarring. 

 He doesn’t want to scare you too terribly, though. This isn’t what these lures of information were meant to do. It was meant to amuse him with your expressions and awe at these simple rules of etiquette, but also to guarantee your safety if—well, when—he asks you delicately to visit Briar Valley soon. Plus, you are the one consistent person outside of his close family who has bothered to hold extended conversations with him. 

“What can you do with my name?” You ask slowly. It’s a valid question. What can he do with your name?

“Oh, one can do many things with a name. Take it as their own, bend it out of shape, lock it in a box or toss it into the sea. A Fae can wipe it from your mind and put it in their pocket should they be so inclined. They can make you do whatever it is they please.” Not that many would anymore. Perhaps in the days when humans and Fae were at war the notoriety of name-theft was known throughout the Valley, but in these recent days of languid peace, name-theft is more apt to find the Fae imprisoned than anything else. 

“And will you?” You ask, catching him off guard for a moment. When he looks at you again, you look nervous as you stare back. “Take my name, or anyone else's?” 

Malleus blinks slowly as he processes your words. Ah… maybe this has gone too far now. He softens his expression and watches as this mirrors on your own. Then he warms his smile to grant some reassurance as he laughs softly. “Oh, no, no. You have my name as well—we are equal, in a sense. I don’t have power over you or anyone else in this school beyond what any other mage may hold.” 

You exhale slowly and relax your shoulders. His words have put you at ease and this pleases him before your expression takes a sharp turn into a scowl.

“Thanks for instilling all this paranoia in me. You know, when I finally visit you in Briar Valley, I’m going to be triple thinking everything that comes out of my mouth now.” 

“When?” He jumps on that word really quick as his expression shifts to one of smug delight. He didn’t even need to push the topic—you just dove headfirst into it yourself. He hears you clear your throat loudly as you yank open your book again. 

“Don’t. I’m going to write this all down in the margins before I forget,” you grumble as he chuckles softly again. 

“Ah, you’re lucky you’re cute, Prefect.” He hums as he returns his attention to the treeline beyond. The fireflies continue to lazily flash in the night, and the silence of the forest brings a sense of peace. There’s solace in your company—and he looks forward to experiencing it more in the future. 

So long as you don’t agitate another Fae. He can’t help you with everything. 

[goldennikko]

SOULMATE PHENOMENON PT. 1 — huh yunjin

summary : everyone has their own soulmate phenomenon, but you have one of the rarest: whenever you lose an item, it somehow ends up in the possession of your soulmate.

pairing : yunjin x (g)i-dle!reader

tags : f!reader ; soulmate!au ; idol!au ; swearing ; reader is a '99 liner ; yunjin is lowkey a simp

requested: ✘

word count : 2.5k

parts : 【 pt. 1 】 【 pt. 2 】

it's common for people to lose their belongings. it's either because they're extremely clumsy or forgetful, or because of the soulmate phenomenon, in which you lose your stuff and they end up in the possession of your soulmate. the phenomenon began earlier this year, at least in your case, and this is the fourth time you've exchanged items with your soulmate, the identity of whom you discovered through your members.

how? well, let's recap.

first, pen and paintbrush.

when it first happened, you assumed it was nothing out of the ordinary. the first thing you lost was a pen. of course, you'd think it was a common occurrence. everyone lost a pen at some point in their lives. the only strange thing was that you discovered a paintbrush in your bag where you normally keep your pen.

you looked around the van, noting that everyone was sleeping except the manager, who was driving, and soyeon, who was in the front seat.

"unnie, oppa, has anyone touched my bag?" you queried, keeping your voice light so as to not disturb the other girls. soyeon looked at you, puzzled, while the manager shook his head.

"you hate having your stuff touched." he observed, fully aware.

"is there something missing?" soyeon asked, ready to throw hands if ever.

you rummaged through your bag for the last time. "no, actually, yes. it's just a pen, anyway. but i have a paintbrush and don't remember bringing one with me, and i know i'm artistic, but it's with words rather than painting and drawing." you showed them the aforementioned paint brush.

"it must be the soulmate phenomenon."

you and soyeon looked at the manager as if he had two heads, causing him to be concerned with how quickly you turned your heads at the same time, almost as if willingly breaking your necks.

"there's a phenomenon like that?" you inquired, your tone skeptical, and soyeon's expression mirroring it.

he nodded. "it's rare, but it exists. really odd, too. when you lose an item, it ends up in the hands of your soulmate. you would lose your possession, but gain items that were never yours to begin with."

you exchanged a puzzled look with soyeon before shifting your gaze to the paintbrush in your hand, wondering who your soulmate might be. although not everyone is gifted with their hands, there are far too many people who can paint and draw, and the world is far too large.

meanwhile, your soulmate is staring at the lone golden pen in her collection of paintbrushes. she was curious about how it got there and unintentionally spaced out. when her short-haired leader poked her head around the doorframe, she snapped out of it.

"everything okay?"

your soulmate nodded. "yeah, i'll be there in a second."

she left, casting one last glance at the golden pen before pulling out her phone to call her parents and inquire about something she remembered them telling her.

second, a random book borrowed from the library and a notebook containing french lessons.

your day started out really well because you were planning to return the book you borrowed from the library near your house, but instead found a notebook on the table. despite being annoyed that you now have to explain to the librarian that you unknowingly and unintentionally lost the book, you picked up the notebook and scanned the content. your brows raised, impressed and shocked by the french lessons written in it. you couldn't speak french, but you knew a few words and phrases.

pardon, excusez-moi. (pardon, excuse me.)

parlez-vous anglais? (do you speak english?)

je ne parle pas français. (i do not speak french.)

je ne comprends pas. (i do not understand.)

"that's some fine penmanship." you whispered to yourself.

with a defeated sigh, you went to the library, waving goodbye to yuqi and shuhua and promising to bring back food. when you arrived, you explained your situation, and the librarian almost gave you an earful, but she saw how guilty and irritated you were, so she let it slide and instead made you promise to return it once you met your soulmate.

"i'm really sorry. i'll bring it back, i swear." you bowed deeply.

"you better, child. now, go, i believe you're in a hurry. you have a schedule?"

you smiled apologetically. "if bringing food back to yuqi and shuhua is considered a schedule, then yes."

with that, the librarian ushered you out of the library. 

your soulmate, on the other hand, was in a state of panic. clutching the random book that had appeared on her table in one hand, she stormed around her room in search of her notebook but knowing her efforts would be futile.

"shit, shit, shit, shit."

when the oldest member of the group, who was passing by, heard her muttering curses, she peeked inside the room while knocking on the door to announce her presence. she spun around, a frustrated expression on her face.

"unnie, have you seen my notebook?"

"no? why? it's not here?"

your soulmate's shoulders sagged, showing her the book. "no, it has to be with my soulmate."

heads popped out from around the door frame. "soulmate?!"

third, a scarf and a brown beanie.

this time, you gained something other than the item your soulmate owns.

"you're not wearing your favorite scarf?" miyeon inquired, her gaze drawn to the white scarf wrapped around your neck. she recalls you saying you'd wear your favorite scarf that soojin had given you, but instead you had a white scarf around your neck and your gloved hand clutched a brown beanie she'd never seen before.

"yeah, well, my soulmate has it." you grumbled. the disappointment and panic you felt when you discovered the scarf was missing sent you into a tailspin. minnie found you panicking and immediately calmed you down because she knew how important that item was to you.

"don't let shuhua hear that." yuqi passed by with a cackle, nudging you.

"shut it." you hissed, but only received another cackle from the chinese and a pat on the head from miyeon. you wore the brown beanie that your soulmate most likely owns while trailing minnie, who had ushered you two outside.

later that day, just after your schedule ended, the group was waiting for food, bored out of their minds and tired from work for the day, but the sound of a unique ringtone echoing through the living room had your members crowding around you. you answered the call, ignoring the chaos that your members had created all around you.

"soojin unnie!"

"unnie!"

"soojin!"

a chuckle was heard from the other end of the line, clearly amused by everyone shouting her name. "calm down, it's just me."

you exchanged pleasantries, almost tearing up at soojin's check-ins and reassurances. you noticed shuhua wiping her eyes discreetly, so you drew her into a side hug, the maknae leaning her head on your shoulders. yuqi attempted to lighten the atmosphere and was successful on her first attempt. however, that was quickly broken when soojin asked you a question that had shuhua looking at you with accusatory eyes.

"did you just lose my scarf, y/n/n?"

"you lost it?!"

you raised your hands in defeat and proceeded to explain what had been going on for months to soojin while shuhua scolded you, causing minnie and yuqi to cackle in the background. miyeon and soyeon attempted to reduce casualties, but gave up and simply watched the chaos unfold in front of them.

"i'm sorry, it just disappeared!" you argued back to shuhua.

soojin giggled. "i'm not mad, i knew something was up."

everyone, including shuhua, stopped talking and exchanged a puzzled look. "how did you know?" soyeon asked.

"you know le sserafim, right?" soojin started.

"yeah?" you answered in unison, urging soojin to continue.

"well, one of the members was wearing the scarf during a live, but i'm not sure who."

soojin was only half way through her sentence when yuqi already found a clip on twitter. when she played the video, your gaze was drawn to the blonde, who had the scarf draped over her shoulders. you froze for a moment, admiring the girl's cuteness when she scrunched her nose at whatever it was that eunchae said and already enjoying the sound of her laugh in her ears.

huh yunjin.

"y/n is in love~" minnie sang, noticing your frozen figure.

you sank back into the pillows, muttering angrily. "am not."

"you sure are~" the members sang, including soojin over the phone.

after discovering that your soulmate was huh yunjin from le sserafim, you were relieved but worried at the same time. despite the girls' encouragement, you didn't approach her because you were afraid she wouldn't like you. fortunately, the group was so preoccupied with the award show and year-end performances that they couldn't push you any further, but it didn't slip your mind.

this leads us to the fourth item, your microphone and her phone.

"fuck!"

yuqi turned her head at the sound of your cursing, amused at first because she was sure the camera had caught it, but worried when she saw you on the verge of yanking your hair. your manager stood in front of you, ready to prevent you from messing up your hair. she approached you, one hand resting on your shoulder to relieve your frustration, and you turned to face her with furrowed brows.

"what's wrong?" the chinese asked, her voice quiet.

"did you see my mic?"

shaking her head in response and already knowing where this was going, yuqi picked up the strange phone next to yours, and it was only then that you noticed the familiar keychain attached to it. so that's what i lost last month, you thought. the chinese grinned at the lock screen photo and turned the screen to you. you paused, your face flushed red, as you looked at the photo of yourself from the 'nxde' music video.

you cleared your throat and ignored her in order to speak with the manager, cursing as the girls crowded around her. "it appears that my soulmate has my mic."

"do you want me to get it for you?" he asked.

you opened your mouth but quickly closed it to think. your meeting with your soulmate was long overdue, and you couldn't really avoid her forever. seeing her set you as her lock screen makes you think she might like you after all. everyone else does think that, except your stubborn ass. furthermore, you'd keep losing your belongings, which would be a major inconvenience for the two of you.

while you were preoccupied with your internal conflict, the le sserafim girls crowded around yunjin, staring at the microphone in her hand. your microphone was customized, so no other idol had the same design as yours. it wasn't the average black one. even if you misplaced it, you'd be able to locate it quickly.

"shit! this is y/n sunbaenim's mic!" yunjin panicked.

the girls panicked and squealed, unsure of what to do. yunjin looked around, trying to figure out what she had lost, and panicked even more when she found her phone missing.

"my phone!" yunjin yelled in realization, causing everyone to jump in surprise. "my phone's missing!"

"sunbaenim has it for sure." eunchae reassured, but yunjin shook her head.

"that's the problem! she's my lockscreen!"

they couldn't think about it any longer when they heard a knock on the door. the room fell silent as the staff turned to look at the girls, particularly yunjin.

the american hesitated at first, but with a push from chaewon, she made her way to the door. she came to a halt in front of it, fingers curled around the doorknob, and turned to face her members, who gave her encouraging looks. yunjin took a deep breath, pushing down the gay that was about to erupt from her throat, and then opened the door.

you were standing there, dressed for your stage performance. when her gaze met yours, you flushed profusely, and her face did the same. your manager was nearby, filming you two, but you were both too caught up in your own world to notice. 

yunjin couldn't believe you were standing right in front of her, just an arm's length away. you were slightly shorter than she was. you'd gone blonde for the sake of your latest comeback, and she swooned the first time she saw you, and she's melting all over again now that she's seeing it up close.

you were admiring her as well. she towered over you, her pink face revealing that she, too, is shy. her blonde hair fell over her shoulders, framing her face, and you couldn't help but think she looked stunning in that black dress. you opened your mouth to speak, but she spoke first.

"you look amazing." yunjin blurted out, switching to english out of habit, and the american cringed when she realized.

you both turned even redder, the people around you either grinning or facepalming at yunjin's painfully obvious admiration for you. you cleared your throat as you noticed your members approaching behind your manager. they were beaming because they had heard yunjin's remark. you returned your gaze to the taller girl, who turned to her members for assistance, but they shook their heads in amusement, before she turned to face you with a shy smile.

"thank you. you do, too." you smiled genuinely and yunjin didn't know how to keep the gay down. "i believe you have something that i own."

you both looked down at the microphone in her hand, and she rushed to hand it to you, nearly hitting you and causing yunjin to curse herself. you took it, your fingers brushing against hers, and handed her her phone, chuckling at her flustered state. yunjin blushed at the brief skin contact before returning her attention to your face.

"it's nice to meet you, yunjin-ssi." you bowed, causing yunjin to frantically shake her hands to stop you and return the bow.

"it's nice to meet you, too, sunbaenim." yunjin replied, smiling widely despite her embarrassment. "please take care of me."

you smiled. "i will."

a crew member appeared and announced that le sserafim will be on in fifteen minutes. you noticed yunjin's shoulders sagged, sad that this would have to end soon, so you reached for the american's hand. she looked at you as you leaned up against her ears.

"good luck, ace it."

with that, you quickly walked away, not giving her time to respond. she couldn't anyway. when you grabbed her hand, she stopped functioning. she watched as you walked away with your members and manager, all of whom were teasing you. chaewon tapped her on the shoulder, and yunjin returned to reality. she saw the teasing glint in her members' eyes and knew she'd be subjected to the same teasing.

yunjin looked at you one last time, and you were already looking at her, a promise in your eyes that you'd talk later, and she couldn't wait. she was both excited and nervous about the fact that you, her soulmate, would be watching from backstage.

that night, yunjin nailed her habanera opera solo and group performance, just as you had instructed. she can only hope that you were impressed.

if she only knew how you reacted backstage.

parts : 【 pt. 1 】 【 pt. 2 】

[lendeah]

bound by duty, haunted by dreams

chapter 1

Summary: You hated him —his selfishness, egocentrism, and lack of morals. He represented everything you stood against. But then, why was he the one plaguing your dreams night after night? Pairing: Astarion x OFC!Tav Word Count: 2.5k Tags: Enemies to Lovers, they really hate each other, Human! Tav , Paladin! Tav , Mind Manipulation, eventual smut.

a/n: I don't know if I will write more of this or I will leave it as a two shot! I probably will. LMK if you enjoy it :)

AO3 link

You detested him. You knew your oath was to love every person, despite their past, despite their beliefs, despite... everything, basically. But you couldn't. Stand. Him. His very presence irked you, sending prickles of discomfort crawling up your spine. That smug, self-righteous smirk. His constant complaints. His utter disgust for all living beings except himself. But the worst of all was his horrible and overt attempts at flirting. It almost made you gag.

You could tell that he felt the same way towards you, judging by the constant sour glances he shot your way at camp. He would sneer when you offered help to those in need and make sly remarks after showing kindness towards your companions. It seemed like everything you stood for was the very antithesis of his beliefs.

At first, you thought you just had to get to know him. You can't judge a book by its cover, after all. But the more time you spent around him, the less you liked him. And it all came crashing down when you had the worst argument about the tiefling situation. The coward wanted us to leave them in the middle of the night! Oh, and rob them of every valuable in order to have money for the trip!

As much as you detested each other, you couldn't deny the fact that you were both in the same boat. Literally. The cursed tadpole had tethered your fates together, forcing you to work together to find a cure. And then there was the oath to Ilmater, the deity of compassion and endurance, which bound you to show kindness and mercy towards all beings.

Your oath did not include being spiteful, but whenever he was near, all you could think about was kicking his-

"Soldier, if you keep looking at him I am afraid he is going to grow another head."

Karlach was giving you a funny look from across the fire. You huffed in annoyance, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you sipped on the stew. The two of you were the last ones having dinner, as the rest of the party had either retired for the night or were on watch duty. This was why Astarion was also lingering around. You tried to ignore his presence, focusing on the warmth of the fire and the comforting taste of the stew. But your eyes kept drifting towards him - the source of all your frustration.

"Maybe that would make him bearable to be around, or maybe they would just argue with each other so much I wouldn't have to listen to either."

"Or they would end up tearing each other apart like rabid animals, competing for attention," she laughed.

You couldn't help but let out a small smile at Karlach's joke, the tension between you and him momentarily forgotten.

"I don't know how much longer I can take it," you grumbled, poking at your stew with your spoon.

"You know wha' we need t'do to get rid o' each other? Find a cure for 'is damn tadpole," Karlach mumbled through a mouthful of food. What was it, her fourth bowl of stew?

She gulped, "Why do you hate him so much anyway?"

You let out a frustrated sigh, feeling your shoulders slump. "I don't hate him. I just can't stand him," you admitted, your voice laced with annoyance. "He's always so smug and heighty, so selfish. And I loathe selfishness. And the way he looks at me like...like I'm some kind of nuisance."

Karlach raised an eyebrow, her spoon frozen halfway to her mouth.

"Well, I can't argue with any of that; he does tend to have a stick up his ass. But, to play devil's advocate, he is quite funny and nice when you get to know him."

You scoffed at Karlach's words, shaking your head. "I highly doubt that," you muttered under your breath.

Karlach rolled her eyes, leaning forward to speak closer to you,

"Look, I bet he's just a big softie underneath all that... exterior. So try playing nice for once, maybe you'll see a different side of him. We need him on our team, even if he's not the easiest to get along with." Karlach reminded you.

You raised an eyebrow at Karlach's suggestion, not sure if you were ready to try being nice to him. But then again, Karlach did have a point. It wouldn't hurt to try, right?

You sighed, feeling a tinge of guilt at the thought that maybe you weren't giving him a chance. People usually liked you - maybe you just hadn't put in enough effort with him.

"Fine. I'll try," you grumbled, still not fully convinced.

Karlach grinned triumphantly, little flames dancing around her body. "That's the spirit, soldier!" she exclaimed, raising her bowl of stew in a mock salute.

You turned around and found he was still there, distractedly looking at his nails.

Ugh, this was going to be difficult.

He caught your eye momentarily, a slight raise of his eyebrow before nonchalantly turning and striding towards his tent.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you bid Karlach a goodnight and began walking towards the elf.

"Hey, Astarion," you called out once you reached his tent.

In a swift motion, he spun around and gave you an assessing look. For a moment, his piercing eyes glinted red, causing a mix of fear and irritation to wash over you.

"Yes?" he asked, his tone polite but dismissive.

Ugh. You wanted to punch his face already.

But instead, you took a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm.

"I just wanted to say... thank you," you said. Yeah, gratitude. Everyone likes gratitude.

His eyebrows rose in surprise at your words, but he quickly composed himself.

"Thank me? I must warn you now, if what you intend is to lecture me about my behaviour it will be all for nought." His words dripped with arrogance he made no attempt to hide it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his pompous attitude.

"No, I just wanted to express my gratitude..." For what? What had he actually done besides constantly complaining and giving disapproving looks at your every decision? "...for staying awake at night to keep watch." Yes, that would suffice.

Astarion narrowed his red eyes and his lips quirked with genuine confusion.

"Why thank you very much, but I am not a child to be lauded for performing the most basic act of the task I have been assigned," Astarion replied, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Then again, I guess your whole 'selfless Paladin nature' compels you to praise me. You looked like it was about to tear you up to do so, I might say. It was quite amusing to witness."

"I'm just trying to be polite," you replied, keeping your tone flat. "Not that you know the meaning of it, anyway."

His grin widened as he stepped closer to you, his tone teasing, "I do so like it when you try so hard to maintain that decorum of yours. Though you would do well to keep practicing. Your good intentions do not excuse the self-righteous stick up your ass."

This motherf-

You gritted your teeth and resisted the urge to punch him in the face. He always seemed to enjoy provoking a reaction out of you.

"I'm not here to argue with you."

"No, you are here to bother me. Which is having the opposite effect of what I am sure you hoped."

"Oh, you are insufferable!" you clenched your fists, the anger evident in your voice.

As you walked away, you could feel his gaze burning into your back. You wanted to turn around and give him a piece of your mind, but you knew it was pointless. Instead, you headed towards your tent and forcefully zipped the flap closed behind you, letting out a frustrated groan.

You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself down. This was not the first time Astarion had gotten under your skin, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. You reminded yourself of your oath. Ilmater. Empathy, sympathy and forgiveness. Ugh. It was hard, especially when dealing with someone like him.

But it was your sacred duty to show compassion and mercy to all, even those who seemed undeserving of it. You took another deep breath , composing yourself. You had faced way worse back home. This was nothing. Just an arrogant aristocrat. If he refused your help, so be it. You would turn your attention to those who were truly in need.

You snuggled deep into your bedroll, the soft fabric enveloping you like a cocoon. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes. Tomorrow would be a better day, you were sure.

As sleep came to you, dreams began weaving their way into your consciousness. Suddenly, you weren't in your bedroll anymore, but in the middle of a beautiful, glittering forest. An ethereal light danced around the tall trees and a clear stream ran through it, its water shimmering with tiny specks of silver.

A rustle in the dense foliage caught your attention, causing you to turn and see Astarion. He appeared like a phantom, emerging from your own thoughts with his white hair cascading around his face like a halo.

Great, now he is also hunting my dreams.

The illusion of Astarion turned around, his expression a mix of confusion and bewilderment as his eyes locked onto your figure. It was as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Well, that makes two of us, you told yourself.

"If it isn't Calendula, the noble paladin, sauntering over," Astarion said, his smirk evident even in the dark.

You cringed at the use of your full name, a jab that he knew would get under your skin.

"Astarion," you greeted him flatly. "I see even my dreams aren't safe from your onslaught."

His eyebrows furrow in confusion "Dreams? What do you-" And then his face lit up. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes and a sly smile spread across his lips, showing his pointed canines. What in the sweet hells is going through his mind? Well, my mind.

Astarion stepped closer, his eyes scanning you up and down. "Well well, I see my charms finally beginning to work on you, my dear paladin." You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "In your dreams, Astarion." "Ah but this is your dream, darling. And I must say, it's quite a lovely one," he said, dragging a fingertip along one of the plants.

You let out an exasperated sigh.

"I can't believe this is what my brain settled for in a good night of sleep."

"Oh come now" He said taking another step closer, his head tilted slightly, "If you truly wanted a peaceful, pleasant dream you would have imagined the sun shining brightly and a beautiful castle or a field of flowers or... whatever it is you paladins enjoy. But your brain, in the dark depths of the night seeks me and only me."

You scoffed at his words. "How do you even know what I do or do not want anyway? You are a product of my brain."

His fingers finally made contact with your skin, his touch icy cold and sending shivers down your spine. It felt so real, you couldn't help but wonder if this was really just a dream.

"I am but a product of your imagination, darling. But exactly because of that, I can feel your desires, your fantasies, your deepest thoughts." he smirked, "And darling, I know that I am what you desire."

Was he? He was a creation of your own mind, therefore he was essentially a part of yourself. But then again, if he was a part of you, did that mean the words he spoke were a reflection of your own truth? It was all so confusing and overwhelming.

Despite your doubts, you couldn't help but steal glances at him - the mole on his cheek, the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his smile. He was undeniably attractive, almost too good to be true. It wasn't so far fetched to think your mind had recreated him. However, you wished it had made him mute.

"I don't desire you," you repeated firmly, trying to convince yourself more than him.

"Ah, and there is that noble pride again. Do you truly believe that your self-denying nature means you haven't thought of me? Of us?" He stepped closer until he was inches away."Tell me, have you ever had any impure thoughts? Thoughts that go against everything Ilmater stands for?"

Your heart raced at his words, eyes widening in shock. Pink lips against yours, teeth piercing soft skin, cold hands up your...

Stop.

You paused briefly before answering. "No, I follow the teachings of Ilmater which guide me towards virtue and moral uprightness. However, I am not bound by a vow of celibacy. I simply direct all of my focus towards my devotion."

Astarion's smirk grew wider at your statement, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh, but it's ok," he whispered, "I know your thoughts. I have seen them, deep inside your mind. I know you want to know how it feels to be touched, to be loved and worshipped back."

The realism was uncanny, right from the soft fur lining of his cloak to the scent of him - leather and pine with a hint of musky sweetness. It was just like the real Astarion, perfectly irritating and irresistible all at once. His presence was intoxicating and you found yourself wanting to lean into his touch.

This is a dream. None of this is real. Astarion wasn't here. He wasn't stepping closer to you again; he wasn't bringing his face dangerously near yours; he wasn't placing his hand on your waist pulling you closer till there was no space left between your bodies.

You could feel his lips almost brushing along your neck. He ran a hand up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into your curls, his voice a low murmur. "Tell me, dearest, what happens when your body desires things your mind believes are wrong?"

You gulped, your hands fisted at your sides, "I-I don't know."

"Do you want to find out?" Astarion's lips grazed your skin again, sending sparks of desire through your body. "I've always found that when the body and the mind disagree... it's always best to follow the body."

Your breath was ragged, brain scrambling for a semblance of sense. You knew you were going to give in. It's just a dream, you told yourself.

No consequences, no judgments.

Just as you were on the brink of surrender, a sudden and sharp tug jolted you from your slumber. Your eyes flew open to reveal the familiar surroundings of your tent. You were back in back in your bedroll, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. A throbbing headache pulsed through your skull.

Today didn't feel better at all.

a/n: hope you liked it! Lmk if you want to be added to a taglist☺️🫶🏻

[friesforfriday]

A real first kiss (Matt Murdock x F!Reader / College AU)

Summary: You tell Matt no one has ever kissed you out of love. He makes sure to correct that.

Wordcount: 2.5K ish

Warnings/Tags: No use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns (no physical descriptions aside from that), college AU, Matt and reader are both in law school, some angst, something that could be read as dissociation (reader feels disconnected to an experience), reader is not straight? (no sexual orientation specified but there's an interaction that is not heterosexual / only kissing tho), comfort at the end (bc I am a sucker for happy endings lol)

A/N: This was oddly personal, and while it’s a little short it was very therapeutic to write. Pretty much wanted to do something that related to being a late bloomer (like I have been my whole life) plus some fluff (: Please take into account that this wasn't proof read and that English isn't my first language; if you happen to see any mistakes, do let me know so I can fix them. Hope you enjoy this!

For most people, their first kiss was usually a memory of their early teenage years, maybe even a childhood one. You could recall the stories your friends have told you. For some it was born out of sunny days during summer camp where connections were born after swimming in a lake all afternoon, quickly followed by laughter scattered into open fields or forests between games of capture the flag. That turned into late-night conversations, sneaking out from each other’s cabin after curfew to meet under the starry sky. 

Or perhaps for some it started out as a hallway crush. The kind that you would reveal only to your closest friends, and you all hid under silly codenames. If you locked eyes during free period, it stirred up giggling. And guess what?It turned out they’d been watching you all along. After gathering all your courage, a study date would turn into something more once your knuckles brushed accidentally.

The list could go and on, their stories all very innocent and sweet, most likely a terrible kisses, but nevertheless worth remembering.

If you added to that all the romantic books you’d read, movies, and what not, there were plenty more stories you could think of, from childhood friends turned to high school sweethearts or plenty about games of truth or dare or spin the bottle. Reality or fiction, first kisses tended to be meaningless beyond their experience value, with the rare exception of those who actually found love through them.

Throughout the years, you had patiently waited for your turn. You didn’t have many expectations of how it would actually happen, you just held on for the moment to finally occur. How difficult could it be? It literally seemed to happen to everyone around you. So you just waited, surely things would flow naturally, right?

Middle school rolled by, which was fine. A lot of people need more time to grow into themselves, it would eventually happen, you were sure. Maybe it wasn’t going to be one of those awkward extended pecks that your friends said seemed to last forever. They insisted it was for the best, no one really knows what they’re doing when they still haven’t even fully hit puberty. If you had your first kiss a little later in life, there was a higher chance it wasn’t going to be completely awful. You could deal with that; high school was supposed to be a more exciting chance to expand your circle. 

Boy were you wrong.

By this point, it was possible that maybe you had watched too many rom-coms or read one too many romance novels. You’re sure now that it helped in no way to ease your expectations. Seriously how difficult could it be? You saw it all. Your best friends got into relationships, went on dates, celebrated anniversaries, and had their hearts broken, only to survive them and start all over again. Kids in your classes, the kind to never speak their minds, suddenly grew into themselves and found their people too. 

During lunchtime, couples sat next to each other, holding hands in the cafeteria. Field trips meant seeing impromptu make-out sessions in the back of the school bus. Your friends received proposals for homecoming and eventually proms; always happy to invite you to come along when you didn’t receive any. At the occasional party you did attend, corners turned into your safe spot as you watched as others were approached. Not once did anyone come to strike up a conversation, to casually sweep you off your feet. It only led you to wonder if you were doing something, anything, wrong.

Love seemed to be everywhere, just never in your life.

You’d be lying to say it didn’t hurt your self-esteem. How come it hadn’t happened to you? Were you really that unattractive or uninteresting or whatever it was for no one to be interested in you? Your friends, or anyone who found out, always assured you saying you weren’t the problem, but the evidence seemed to point elsewhere. 

You manages to endure a little longer. After your high school graduation, the prospect of college lifted you spirits. With all the people that attended such a big school, you’d be sure to meet new people or at least get your mind off it.

It was even worse. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the embarrassment inexperience brought upon you. At some point you just started to lie your way through games of never have I ever; because let’s face it, admitting to a dozen strangers that you’ve never even held hands romantically wasn’t how you pictured spending your Friday and Saturday evenings. And that wasn’t even the worst part. Opening bathroom doors to couples straight up fucking or having to leave your dorm when your roommate brought a date every other week made you feel majority behind.

After spending your freshman year sulking, you decided it had been enough. At this point, you knew you were a late bloomer, but c’mon, those “the right person will find you when you least expect it” pep talks were starting to feel like bullshit. For fucks sake, it didn’t even matter anymore if they actually liked you, you just wanted to get it over with.

Matters were taken into your own hands on a Saturday night. The crowded spaces did you no favors to appease your social anxiety. As you walked around, room after room was filled to the brim with strangers, your friends nowhere to be found. The floor of the frat house they had dragged you to remained particularly sticky everywhere you went, especially in the kitchen where you had stopped to refill the red plastic cup in your hands.

As you poured rum into your half full glass of coke, a familiar voice called your name from across the room, “Oh my God, is that really you?”

And so, greetings were exchanged, as well as short debriefings of what you’d been up to since graduating. For all the time you’d been at Columbia, that was the first time you’d run into someone from your hometown.

Soon enough you were sitting in a half-empty deck, laughing and reminiscing about middle school. The green eyes that looked at you weren’t full of love or lust, but had a strange tinge of nostalgia. If you were being honest, it was one of those old friendships that stood had faded into nothing more than an acquaintance, and you suddenly knew you had an opportunity laid at your feet.

In all honesty, you could’ve gone simply with catching up and then left to look for one of your friends. Looking at him, you recalled all the times you joked around in Literature class or the times his parents gave you a ride home before you inevitably grew apart in high school. There was no spark when your knees brushed in the small sofa you were sitting in; but there was no discomfort either, so against your better judgement you decided to go for it.

By all means, it was a good kiss, at least that’s how you remember it now. At the time, there wasn’t anything else to compare it to, but none of the complaints you’d heard before happened. There wasn’t any unnecessary clash of teeth, it didn’t feel like he was shoving his tongue down your throat, he kept his hands safely and softly cupping your cheeks and neck. According to all the standards of all of your friends, this was an A+ experience.

By the time you were heading back to your dorm, you found yourself finally able to check having your first kiss off your bucket list. A sudden feeling of pride ran through your body as you walked through campus. Finally.

Unfortunately, though, after you’d washed your face and were sharing the news over the phone with your best friend, you realized that while everything had seemingly gone smoothly, you still felt the odd knot inside your chest. Like nothing had really changed. It was hard to put into words, how your body had felt out of its own, like you were playing a character as your lips met his, or maybe it was just your mind playing tricks on you. Because for some reason, you hadn’t really felt there when it happened. It just sort of seemed to occur.

“You’re kidding, right?” Matt’s said flat out, although you knew his deadpan tone was just for show.

Letting out a giggle you said, “Why would I lie about that?”

“That jerk was your first kiss?”

“He wasn’t a jerk, we were friends in mid-” you tried to defend the choices of you past self between bursts of laughter, but he didn’t let you continue. His sour expression growing by the second.

“He’s a conservative bigot, a Republican-governor-wannabe, how is he not–”

“He wasn’t back then!” Raising your tone, you barely held it in before your laughter burst out again at the same time Matt’s did, because yeah he was right – that dude did end up becoming a jerk. Except it didn’t really matter because you were never actually into him, and you can’t blame yourself for who your middle school classmates end up becoming.

“But he is now.”

You both kept laughing, shoulders brushing as you sat on the bed on his side of the dorm room. Foggy had ditched you both for tonight, opting out of your usual weekend hangout in favor of a date with someone called Marci, or so he’d said.

“Okay, okay, fiiiine, I’ll give you that,” you said in your defense, lightly shoving his shoulder with your own. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t actually like him.”

“Wait…” Matt said scrunching his nose in disbelief, his laughter slowly dying down, his face dead serious for real this time. “What are you talking about, why'd you kiss him then?”

With his face suddenly turned in your direction, you felt a your cheeks grow warm. “I guess… I just wanted to get it over with.”

An apologetic smile was what he offered in return, with no real judgment behind it. “Well, it should’ve been more special ... silly as it may be, you know... not just anyone.”

His words stop you in your tracks for a split second, a bittersweet feeling creeping up your chest. You’d never actually considered it, but in the years that had passed since that night, you didn’t recall that any other single kiss you’d received had actually been born from real love or any true feelings at all. 

There was that one time you hit it off with someone at a friend’s birthday. The light conversation between the colorful lights had you blushing more than usual. Their body was warm against yours when their lips were pressed to your own. The taste of their lip balm was sweet, almost sugary on your tongue, but it was all a spur-of-the-moment situation. While, unlike the first time, where you’d felt disconnected from your body, this time you’d actually enjoyed it. There was a warm feeling, maybe happiness, but definitely not affection and surely not love.

Then there were some other guys, whom you had very much liked. They listened to you and talked eagerly with you every time you bumped into each other, yet never actually asked you out. They flirted with you or had their friends act as their wingmen to eventually end up making out with you during random parties, but never – you realized – not one single time had anyone ever been interested in you affectionately, with tenderness or sincerity.

As if on cue, as if he could somehow sense what you were thinking, Matt broke the sudden silence that had grown in the room. “I didn’t mean to overstep I–”

You shook your head, breaking free from your thoughts, “No, no, I just… I don’t think I’ve ever had a…” Your voice quieted down before you could finish the sentence. While you weren’t ashamed of any of your experiences anymore, you couldn’t quite seem to get rid of the lingering pain that followed all of them.

“A real connection?”

Your eyes darted up to look at Matt; red glasses were shielding his eyes from yours, but did not cover the furrow of concern between his brows. It wasn’t a secret to Matt that you’d never been in a relationship. You’d told him at some point, during one of the many late-night conversations you enjoyed having. He’d found it hard to believe, truly, how anyone would pass on the chance of earning your trust. The thing was, anyone willing to pass on your endless compassion, your particular sense of humor, the softness of your skin, or the brilliance of your mind was a jackass, and he sure as hell wasn’t one.

He’d known you all of law school, at least all year and a half you’d both taken of it, although to him it might as well be a lifetime because he couldn’t quite picture a time when he didn’t recognize the sound of your heartbeat by memory. Right from the day you sat next to him in the Civil Procedures course, it took him no time to think of an excuse to talk to you, ignoring Foggy – who was also sitting next to him – to ask you if you’d care to study together someday.

Here and now, your very same heartbeat thumped loudly mere inches away from him. The opportunity he had once longed for.

“C’mon man, you gotta tell her at some point” was what Foggy had told him a few hours prior, before he’d left you two alone on purpose. “She obviously likes you, for real. It’s time.”

“I don’t know, Foggy. I don’t want to pressure her, what if she doesn’t want to be anything more than friends? I–”

“Oh my God, Matt! Are you being serious?” He said in a mock tone, “You don’t want to pressure her? She has completely memorized the way you take your tea and somehow prepares it perfectly in the shitty dining hall microwave. She genuinely prefers spending every Saturday night holed up in our dorm or out at Josie’s or pretty much anywhere just to sit next to you. She literally looks at you with stars in her eyes.”

Chuckling, Matt did his best to play coy, “Well, I can’t know about that last part–”

“You know what I mean. You have to tell her, tonight.” Foggy insisted as he made his way out of the dorm room; he pointed his finger at Matt before he fully headed out, “God forbids you actually pursue something that might make you happy. I’ll be over at Marci’s, don’t wait up for me…”

So yeah, Matt knew what he had to do. “I think I’d like to object to that… if that’s okay with you.”

At your silence– aside from the way your heartbeat continued to pick up – he proceeded, “You don’t really think there isn’t a single soul who’d honestly care for you, do you?”

His hand slowly moved from where it rested atop his lap. His knuckles gently brushed your knee and grazed your hand, guiding themselves with the line of your arm all the way up until they reached your shoulder. A small smile grew on your face and quickly turned into laughter. “Matt, are you serious?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to tell you.” In a second, he mirrored your laughter, nodding his head. He felt the warmth of your fingers cover his other hand. “Is it okay if I– can I kiss you?”

If you recalled correctly, no one had ever asked you that, in all of your lifetime. Surely, for you, this was a first of its kind.

As soon as you said yes, dexterous fingers slid around your waist, gently coaxing you towards him, before taking off his glasses. Your body didn’t resist complying, the warmth of Matt’s chest as inviting as the feeling of his heartbeat against yours, your legs at ease around his own. 

The stubble across his neck gently brushed against your fingers, a tingling sensation that almost sent shivers down your spine. This close, there was no escaping the soft smell of soap and cinnamon from his skin or the way his breath fanned across your face. Warmth grew inside your chest as you felt the soft brush of his lips on yours, almost melting together. It was slow and languid, much like honey trickling down your tongue. You were sure it could be just as sweet too, a kind of feeling you had never felt before. 

A feeling you guessed was reciprocated if the rumble that reverberated through Matt’s throat was anything to go by. He couldn’t tell why he had waited so long to do this; all of his excuses gone the second the softest skin of your mouth met his. As far as he knew, he could stay with you like this for hours. He didn’t want to pressure you– not even when your breathing got a little faster or when your lips parted oh-so-gently to let him seek out your taste– but this much he could do.

The only reason he found to pull back was to ask you, catching his breath and brushing his thumb over your lower lip, “Does this mean I can take you out tomorrow night? We can do this properly.”

You smiled to yourself, “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

If you're here, thank you so much for reading!!! Please please please let me know what you thought - all feedback is appreciated- and consider reblogging if possible (:

[slutforavatar]

Neteyam & Lo’ak Sully SFW alphabet

Word count: 2.5k

A- Activites/ Their favourite actives to do with you

Neteyam: He loves walking on the shore, hand in hand just talking. He loves talking to you without feeling judged and he loves that he can act like himself around you and can relax and not worry what his father thinks.

Lo’ak: He loves taking you to see payakan, he loves seeing you communicate with him, understanding the tulkan. He finds that is your best feature,understanding and loving people no matter they’re past. You guys will just lay on him talking while he slowly swims at the top of the water.

B- Body/ Whats their favourite body part on you.

Neteyam: Neteyams favourite body part of yours is definitely your hands, he thinks your hands are so soft and small. He always compares your guys’s hands and makes fun of your small hands, he calls them baby hands. He always loves placing little kisses on your palms or on your fingers.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak ADORES your thighs. He loves how soft and squishy they are, hes always running his hands across them softly caressing them or squeezing them. Hd loves laying his head between them feeling your body heat radiating off onto his cheeks as you play with his hair. Your thighs are also his favourite place to leave marks so only he can see them, knowing your all his.

C- Cuddling/ How do they like to cuddle.

Neteyam: Neteyams favourite cuddling position is when your laying on top of him, your head on his chest, legs tangled between his and his hands resting on your lower back softly rubbing your back. He loves that you guys are so close, he feels safe and he feels he’s keeping you safe.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak loves spooning, most of the time you’ll be the little spoon, your back to his chest with one of his arms around your waist, and you hugging his free hand to your chest. Whenever he is feeling down because of his dad or he’s just had a bad day he will be the little spoon. You clinging to his back holding him, placing kisses on the back of his neck as he drifts off to sleep.

D-Dates/ Do they take you on dates and if so what do they look like.

Neteyam: Neteyam loves showing his love for you by taking you on dates so they happen regularly, his ideal date idea looks like you guys cuddling while watching the stars as he tells you stories about how his father came from one of the stars, you guys have a little picnic set up too with all kinds of fruit, you guys always muck around and feed eachother but you guys both end up with your faces covered in fruit, lying on the ground laughing in each others arms.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak isn’t the best at planning dates for you, he normally gets help from Neytiri or Kiri. When he does plan dates which is rarely, he takes you out on his ilu to a cave. Inside he’s got paint for you guys to paint on the walls of the cave, but you guys just end up throwing paint all over eachothers faces and arms while laughing hysterically.

E- Emotions/ How do they express their feelings to you.

Neteyam: Whenever Neteyam is feeling down he tries to hide it, him being the oldest had made him feel as if he must hide his feelings from his siblings. But whenever he feels down he finds you and talks out hes feelings, he makes it feel closer to you especially when it turns into a deep conversation of you guys sharing your emotions.

Lo’ak: When Jake is harsh on Lo’ak he always comes to you, he doesnt like talking about it though. He just walks over to you with his gaze facing the floor and his arms open wide, you embrace him in your arms while he softly cries on your shoulder. You dont want to say anything so you let him cry it out. He feels so vulnerable with you like this, he would never let anyone else see him like this but your an exception. After he cries it out he then tells you what happened then you guys end up cuddling.

F- Family/ do they want a family with you anytime soon.

Neteyam: Neteyam loves the idea of you being the mother of his kids. He thinks you will be an amazing mother especially when he sees you playing with the children of the village, your so gentle and understanding with the children and he loves it. But he thinks you guys should wait a few years before starting a family together.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak isnt a big fan of children, so he can definitely wait for you guys to start trying for a baby, but he is the same as neteyam, he adores the love you have for helping children and looking after them, he knows you will be the best mother to his children.

G- Gifts/ How do they feel about receiving gifts from you.

Neteyam: Neteyam loves when you give him gifts, he feels as is if thats your way of expressing your love for him, whenever you give him a gift he hugs you tight and kisses all over your face, you mainly make him bracelets, anklets or necklaces. He always loves the little rocks or trinkets you put on the gifts and he never takes it off once you give it to him. He loves showing off whatever you get him “hey look at this necklace y/n made me”, “look at the crystal she put in this” he loves showing your gifts off and you do too.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak appreciates the gifts you give him but he feels bad if he doesnt have anything to give you in return, he thanks you constantly for it but you tell him its your way of showing him you love him, he gets all flustered when he opens the gifts.

H- Holding hands (how do they like holding your hand)

Neteyam: Neteyam prefers his arm over your shoulders pulling him close to his body rather then holding hands, but when holding hands he loves when you hold his fingers, since your hands are smaller then his he finds it cute when your hands wrap around his fingers.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak loves when your fingers are intertwined with his, your hands warming his, his warming your hands. He loves it, he feels closer to you.

I- Injury (How would they act if you got injured)

Neteyam: Whenever you got hurt during a battle Neteyam was the first by your side, making sure you injuries weren’t fatal and making sure you were conscious, he’d reassure your going to be okay and he’d try his best to not stress you out, he call for people to come help you get to safety and he’d be by your side the entire time.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak would rush to your side and check your injuries, his hand would be gripping yours tightly squeezing it hard. Once help arrives and takes you away to heal you he breaks down, hitting surrounding trees and blaming himself for your injuries.

J- Jokes (do they like to joke around with you or prank you)

Neteyam: Neteyam likes to think hes good at telling jokes but really he only tells dad jokes 😭. You only laugh at them because theyre dad jokes “You laughed y/n see im funny” is what he says every joke.

Lo’ak: Oh my, Lo’ak loves pulling pranks on you, but not pranks where it puts you in danger. Him and tuk always prank you, tuk will ask you to help her with something and lo’ak will be waiting behind a tree with a bucket of water or something.

K- Kisses (how do they like to kiss you)

Neteyam: Neteyam loves kissing your cheeks, forehead and temple, he says it feels more intimate and loving.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak loves placing kissing on your hands, thighs and lips. Like I said he LOVES your thighs cant get enough of them. He loves long passionate kisses on the lips, he says you taste so sweet.

L- Love language (what is theyre love language)

Neteyam: Words of affirmation. Neteyam loves reminding you constantly how beautiful you are and how he got so lucky with you.

Lo’ak: Physical touch 100%, that boy always has to be touching you, either its a hand on your back, holding your hand, having your hand on his arm. You just have to be touching one another, he expresses his love by placing kisses all over your face or hands.

Memory- (their favourite memory with you)

Neteyam: When you guys had your first picnic date, you guys had so many different kinds of fruits laying out in leaves. You guys looking up at the stars while he holds you, you babbles on about anything and he listens to your every word.

Lo’ak: When you guys first met, how your eyes locked with his and your tail swishing side to side while staring into his soul, he will never forget how beautiful he thought you were that day.

N- Nightmare (what is their worst fear)

Neteyam: Neteyams worst fear is letting his parents down and disappointing them, he feels as if his parents are putting too much pressure on him so he fears he will let them down.

Lo’ak: Lo’aks worst fear is losing his family, besides you they are the only people that love him, even though his father is hard on him he knows he loves him and he is scared to death he will lose them before proving himself worthy.

O-Oddity (one weird quirk they have)

Neteyam: Neteyam has a weird habit of purring whenever he is comfortable, play with his hair? he purrs. Rub his back and he purrs. He gets hella embarrassed when you point it out but you love it.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak has a weird habit of biting you, not hard enough to hurt you but he will randomly start nibbling on you. You guys will be talking and he’d randomly lean over and nibble on your shoulder.

P-Pet names (pets names they call you)

Neteyam: Neteyam likes to call you love, darling and sweetness 100%

Lo’ak: Lo’ak likes to call you ‘my princess’ and baby all the time 100000%.

Q- Quality time (how do they spend quality time with you) Kinda already did this one

Neteyam: Neteyam likes walking on the shore having a deep convo with you.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak likes to take you to see payakan and talk ti you while riding on his back.

R- Rhythm ( what song reminds you of them)

Neteyam: any slow chill song reminds you of neteyam

Lo’ak: any songs by like Nirvana or the weeknd remind you of him.

S- Secrets ( how open are they with you)

Neteyam: It took Neteyam a bit to open up to you, but he eventually told you everything about him wanting to be perfect for his father and feeling as if his father’s expectations for him are too high. He feels as if he can tell you anything.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak hasnt fully opened up to you yet, he opens up to you slowly, telling you secrets here and there. He loves how patient you are with him. He feels as if he can trust you with anything.

T- Time ( how long did it take for you guys to get together)

Neteyam: It took about 5-6 months, Neteyam only just moved to the reef and then he met you, he didnt want to rush into a relationship and he wanted to know if he truely liked you. After the 5th month of living there snd you helping him every day he finally free the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend.

Lo’ak: Well you and Lo’ak had been bestfriends since birth, but he gained feelings for you when you guys turned 14 and you guys are currently are 18, you guys started dating when you were 16 so it took him 2 years.

U-upset (how do they act when your upset)

Neteyam: Neteyam instantly pulls you into his arms once he notices something is wrong, he asks you what is wrong and he comforts you until your ready to talk. After you told him he assures you everything will be okay “i love you y/n”.

Lo’ak: When Lo’ak sees you walking towards him with tears rolling down your cheeks he runs towards you “are you okay y/n did someone hurt you?” he examines your body making sure your not hurt then he pulls you into his arms, once you explain he softly kisses your head and holds you until you feel better.

V- Vaunt (Are they proud of you? do they show you off)

Neteyam: Neteyam is so proud of you, hes so proud of how strong and beautiful you are, he loves showing you off to all his friends and family “isnt my girlfriend gorgeous”

Lo’ak: Lo’ak treats you like a shiny medal, he is also so proud of you and he shows you off like crazy. He is so surprised he pulled someone like you so of course he shows you off “my girlfriend y/n is better then you all he giggles as he kisses your cheek.

W- Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting in the war against sky people? do they fight along side you or fight for you)

Neteyam: He hates the idea of you fighting in the war, he is terrified of you flying off on your Ikran for war and never returning, he tries to talk you out of it but you dont change your mind so he tells his father he will fight for you.

Lo’ak: He was hesitant at first but once he thought about it he loved the idea of fighting beside you and having a badass warrior girlfriend.

X- X-ray (how well are they at reading through you)

Neteyam: Neteyam can read you like a book, he can tell when your upset, mad or frustrated just by looking in your eyes, he always pulls you aside and asks if your okay and you always lie saying your fine “i can read you like a book y/n whats bothering you”

Lo’ak: It takes him a bit to examine yout facial expressions and your body language to realise. He’ll lean down and whisper into your ear “whos annoying you” he places his hand on yours and squeezes it.

Y- “Yes” (How would they propose to you)

Neteyam: Neteyam is a big romantic, would definitely go ask your father for his blessing first, then practise a whole speech. He puts a lot of thought in it, he brings you deep into the forest, then takes you to the tree of spirits, gets on one knee and pops the question.

Lo’ak: Lo’ak is also a big romantic but doesnt really show it, he rehearses a big speech but ends up winging it when he gets on his knee. definitely cries when you say yes

Z- Zen (what makes them calm down)

Neteyam: Put a bow in that boys hand and he will instantly calm down, he’ll shot a few markers on a tree then he will be back to normal instantly

Lo’ak: I feel like Neytiri would be the thing to help him calm down, idk i just feel like at heart hes a mamas boy.

[lana7779]

People should really be careful when saying things like "hey, you should write (insert the randomest idea)", because by god, I will make it happen.

So here we are, 2.5k words of Gil taking out Break's hairpins...

Yuuuup... That's all this is...

Pulling out your partner’s hairpins as a metaphor for sex.

Gil was angry. Overall, relieved, of course, but still, very angry that Xerxes didn’t tell him. Didn’t tell him that he was blind, and carried that weight in secret. 

After Yura’s mansion when they got back the Rainsworth mansion and the debrief was over, they each went to their rooms, but Gilbert followed Xerxes to his. 

When he arrived, he saw the blind man fumbling with his hair pins, turned away from the mirror on the dresser because he no longer needed it. That angered Gilbert even more. He stalked into the room, not bothering to keep his presence a secret and slammed his hands down on either side of the Mad Hatter, trapping him with his body against the wood behind him. 

Break jumped a bit at the abrupt sound, Gilbert’s anger radiating off of him practically like heat. He kept his hands by his hair, looking in the direction in which he could feel the younger was near him. And he was so damn near. The reason Gilbert’s anger was comparable to heat is because he was indeed close enough to feel every fibre of Gil’s being. 

Gilbert probably felt like he could get this close only because Break couldn’t actually see him. Whatever the reason, his presence was penetrative, though not unwelcome. It was his favourite little pathetic Gilbert after all… What could he possibly do to him that Sharon already hasn’t put him through with her harisen? Although, being this close to the Raven, he truly did not know what to expect. So he pretended as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aside from that loud bang of Gilbert’s hands against the dresser. 

The Raven breathed heavily, composing himself to not scream at his mentor in such close proximity. It would be rather counterintuitive to yell at someone whose all other senses except for sight were sharper now. Or could Break be going deaf as well and wasn’t telling him that either? 

Either way, all that came out of him was a measured sentence, the only question that he needed confirmation on from the source himself. Head bowed in front of his mentor, he asked. “You really can’t see… Can you?”

Despite showing the best fighting Gilbert has seen from his teacher in a while, the sight of the older fiddling with the hairpins was quite pitisome. At this point, he was wondering if eyesight was truly the issue or just lack of skill in the hair department. 

Break thought of a million different ways to retort to that question. To tease Gilbert about barging into his room like that and to now be bent over him like so. He wanted to. He really did. But at the end of the day, he could not be more grateful to the person that saved him from committing an irreversible mistake. He lowered his hands from the back of his hair in defeat. In an unnaturally small voice, he confirmed the younger’s suspicion. “No.”

Break both heard and felt the sharp inhale that Gilbert took. It was so… desperate… as if a part of Gil hoped for the opposite answer. But there he was, disappointing his subordinate. 

At this point, Gil decided to look up into Break’s unseeing eye. It was so unnerving, because Break looked back at him, and for a moment, he thought he could see recognition and some sensory input, but no. The iris was unfocused, not looking him directly in the eye as one would in this close proximity. Break was just doing his best estimate to figure out where he should be looking. 

Gil let out a defeated sigh, seeing how there was nothing to be fighting here for. No bargaining nor anger will do him nor Break any good here. He took a long look at his mentor and the situation they were in. He was in Break’s room, effectively pinning him against his own dresser, a blind man, no less. How opportunistic of him… Granted, had he tried to do so earlier, it would have definitely ended with his being thrown out in the most creative ways Break could conjure at the time. Now though, all Break did was stand there, accepting fate for what it was. 

Gil leaned forward to look behind Break’s head at the mess that was created there after a whole evening, which also happened to include a fight. With his breath ghosting over Break’s ear, he asked quietly. “How did you even get them in there?”

With Gil this close, Break suddenly felt uneasy, a slight heat rushing through his body. They’ve never been this close before outside of training and fighting. There was something… intimate about this moment. Not only that, but Gil’s sudden change in tone. Going from angry to soft after Break’s confession really put him through some mental hoops. 

This close to Gilbert, he could smell the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. He tried not to inhale too deeply so as to not appear as if he was actively sniffing his student. Though, he dared say, the scent was pleasant to his taste. However, the warm breath on his ear… there was nothing he could have done to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. In hopes that Gilbert wouldn’t notice, he answered his question. “Sharon…”

But Gilbert noticed. How could he not, being this close to someone, and being the one with eyesight. Break’s visible bodily reaction was very noticeable and Gil couldn’t help the smile that passed on his lips. He brought a hand up to hover over the back of Break’s hair, trying to find the best place to start with the hairpins

Break only continued to talk in an effort to disguise his growing comfort at being this close to another man. “She really likes all things dress up and hair, so naturally she was the one to--ahh…” 

Gilbert finally touched his hair, barely, but still noticeable enough to make Break lose his train of thought and gasp in awe over how nice the sensation felt. 

Gilbert pulled his hand back when he heard and felt the gasp. He only touched a few of the strands to see if they were a good beginning spot, but Break’s reaction made him hesitate. “Hm? What is it?”

“Nothing!” Break shook his head, embarrassed with himself at his own reaction. ‘What the fuck was that?!’ 

“Alright… you let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” Gil reassured and went back to being infinitely close to Break. 

“Mhmm,” Break hummed his agreement and immediately fought back a low whimper once Gil’s hand actually fully immersed itself in his hair. What was this boy doing to him???

When Sharon played and fiddled with his hair, it didn’t feel like much. Just a necessity he had to sit through. But with Gilbert… the whole ordeal felt different. He was oh so aware of their proximity, but also there was something about knowing that Gil’s rough gun handling hands were doing the most miniature of tasks such as taking hairpins out of someone’s hair...

His mind swam. Maybe he should just call Sharon in here and get this over with, with no further complications to their relationship. Instead, he found himself gripping Gilbert’s forearm unconsciously, tilting his head in the direction of Gilbert’s head. What was wrong with him?

However, shortly after he realized he was holding onto Gil’s arm, Gil used that arm to return his hold on him. Recognizing this, Break’s thoughts shifted to, ‘what is wrong with him???’

Gil didn’t understand why Break suddenly decided to hold onto him, but he felt it would only be right to return the favour under the pretence that this way Break would hold still better and let him focus on his task. Or maybe he was hurting him, and Break was too proud to admit it, but instead transferred that pain into gripping him? This particular pin was a tad more tangled than the rest and he was really fumbling with it. Especially one handed, since he dared not let go of Break with his other hand. It was comforting in a sense, to them both, to be holding each other during this task.

Feeling Gil’s hand in his hair felt unlike any sensation he’s ever witnessed. No longer caring about why he was feeling this way, Break decided to just let himself get swept away in the soothing sensation of having someone fiddle with your hair. Since his hand was gripping Gil’s arm, he focused on how the muscle moved beneath the coat and skin. How firm and sturdy Gil felt in his hold. How strong his student has grown from the small and scared child he’d met a decade ago. 

He found that oddly comforting and unconsciously began leaning forward into Gil. He noticed that Gil pressed firmer into him as well, almost leaning his chest on his shoulder. ‘What is he doing…?’ 

Only being able to use one hand made the task more difficult, so with no other option, Gil decided to get his mouth involved. To do that though, he had to really lean into Break to be able to grasp the hairpin with his teeth. They could just change positions, but… somehow that felt like more work and he was comfortable enough as it was. Plus, he was practically already there. “Lean forward more, I can’t see…”

Break’s eye widened, and while he was dumbfounded, Gil used his hand to push his head into his shoulder. He gave a surprised gasp, his hand gripping Gilbert more earnestly now. His breathing picked up at being so intimately close to Gilbert, even closer than before, which is already the closest they’ve ever been. Now he was forced to inhale the scent of Gil’s coat, and to be practically embraced by his student. What a peculiar situation…

Now having a better visual on the back of Break’s head, Gil held onto the clump of messy hair with his hand and leaned in with his face to grasp the pin by his teeth. He felt Break stiffen underneath him and smirked to himself. This must be something new for his mentor as well. He had to admit, he rather liked this arrangement, for once putting Xerxes Break in an unfamiliar territory and watching him squirm as he was now. 

With the first pin successfully out of the white hair, he leaned back. Ideally, he’d have loved for Break to see him with his prize between his teeth, but alas, he will need to compensate. He pulled back slowly, talking lowly around the pin in his mouth, with his breath brushing right up against Break’s ear. “I got it…” 

Break bit his lower lip to fight back another involuntary whimper at both the sensation and action. ‘Did he just take it out with his teeth?’ He was able to deduce that much from the way Gil spoke, and how close he felt the younger’s face to the back of his head. He tried not to show his bafflement in his voice. “That one was really stuck in there, eh?”

Gil dropped the pin onto the dresser and leaned back in to get the other ones. “Mhmm,” he hummed. “The rest should be easier to get out.”

Break squeezed Gil’s arm when he felt Gil’s hand go back to touching his hair. “It’s okay, take your time…”

And so Gil did, take all the time in the world, slowly pulling out pin by pin, leaving Break to gasp, tremble and pant in his arms. After a few particularly gorgeous sounds from the older, Gil couldn’t help his own heart rate spiking, leaving him to breathe shallowly, which Break picked up on and played off of. They did not need to speak aloud to let their bodies talk for themselves. Especially when Gil’s hand would travel in between pins, just casually massaging gently the back of Break’s head. That bit in particular made Break lose composure and gasp louder than normal and grip Gil’s arm tighter. He even tried tilting his head back in pleasure a couple of times, but Gil just pushed his head right back against him, as that hindered the progress on getting the hairpins out. 

Another moment that made Break forget what was happening was when Gil would deliberately breathe against his ear hotly and sweetly. For no other reason, just because. Just because Break’s reactions likely fueled his own internal sensations, which he wasn’t hiding as well as he thought. Break could both feel and hear it. 

Particularly when Gil would get too close and actually faintly brush his lips against Break’s ear, making them each gasp in surprise, but carry on as if nothing happened. 

Soon enough, Break returned to looking more like himself with his scrunkly looking hair and the pile of bobby pins laid on the dresser beside them. Break wasn’t quite sure what to do now that that was over. As much as he enjoyed the moment, it was rather… peculiar, in the best sense of the word.

He still did not let go of Gil. Gil tried leaning back as soon as he was done, but Break kept a firm hold on him. Break’s next words surprised him. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

They just shared the most intimate moment of their lives with each other, gasping and trembling in each others’ holds without speaking a single word of it, the arousal running high between them, and Break was still holding onto him with an unyielding grip. 

Gil leaned back in to be eye level with Break again, face to face for the first time since he started pulling out the pins. “Just helping a blind man with his hairpins. Nothing more.” He whispered sweetly. 

He leaned in closer to Break’s face so that their noses would be barely touching and their lips hovering just over one another. Break was about to tilt his head to make their lips touch when Gil whispered reassuringly. “You can let go of me now…”.

Break hesitated for a split second, but did as was told. What a silly thing he did, holding onto Gilbert like that. He promptly released his grip and looked away, hand coming to hold the edge of the dresser he was still leaned back against. 

He expected this to be that, and for Gilbert to turn around and leave. That’s why despite Gil leaning away from his face, he was surprised to feel Gil caress the back of his head one last time, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers before finally stepping away from him completely. 

With his unspoken message delivered, Gil walked out of the room quietly. If Break wanted more, he knew where to find him.